Grace of the Devil
by fuzzyfishbowl
Summary: After a rare night of passion, Narcissa becomes pregnant and Lucius decides to keep the baby. What affects will a little girl have on her seemingly heartless father? FINISHED
1. Default Chapter

A/N: WARNING! This story depicts Lucius Malfoy in a new way. I remember reading the review for a story awhile back, where the reviewer mentioned that it would be nice to see Lucius as "human", or "not evil". Well, he IS evil...at least, from what we've seen in Ms. Rowling's works. I've written a story showing him as evil...check out "The Woes of Mrs. Malfoy", it's not bad. But this story shows him in a new light, loving and caring. After all, there is some good in everyone...  
  
"Grace of the Devil"  
  
Part One:  
  
Lucius winced at the sound coming from the bathroom: Narcissa's dry heaves. She'd been throwing up like this for days. She must've gotten sick from her trip to Greece, he thought with a smirk. I hope I don't get it...  
  
The toilet flushed, and a pale, messy-haired Narcissa stumpled out of the bathroom. Lucius hated seeing her like this: he could barely stand her when she was looking her best, let alone sickly and reeking of puke. Narcissa sat down at the edge of the bed next to her husband, and Lucius scowled.  
  
"Don't come close to me, woman. I don't want what you have."  
  
"You can't get it," she snarled impatiently.  
  
"What is it, then? A diese for heartless people?"  
  
"Well, if it were that, you'd have had it for a long time, wouldn't you?"  
  
Lucius rolled his eyes. He always HATED this, their childish bittering. They were worse then Draco and the children at his school. "Well," Lucius said, trying hard to keep the bitterness from his voice, "what have you got, then?"  
  
Narcissa looked her husband in the eye, and it was all he could do to not look away. Her sapphire-blue eyes, the ones he'd fallen in love with years ago, had lost their spark of youth and life long ago. It didn't that they were bloodshot and watery now, but the dead blankness was the worst of it. But Lucius knew he couldn't look away. "Lucius," she whispered, her voice devoid of any of it's previous mocking, "I'm late."  
  
"Late?" Lucius narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by LATE?"  
  
"What do you THINK I mean?" Narcissa snapped in irritation. "Late, as in, I'm pregnaut."  
  
Time stood still. Lucius stared at his wife, awestruck. Surely she couldn't be...but the look in her eyes told him it was true. After a long minute, Lucius managed to whisper, "Pregnaut?"  
  
Narcissa nodded wordlessly, and Lucius was thrown back into a memory. Just days ago, he and his wife had engaged in a night of love-making, something they hadn't done in...how long? Years, it seemed. It had been the night after she returned from her vacation, looking very tan and enticing. "Lucius," she'd purred, half-drunken, "I want you."  
  
And he'd given in. It had felt nice to be with his wife again. She was an excellent love-maker, no denying. But he hated her too much to be around her to TALK, let along share something as intimate as sex. Yes, Lucius had a very romantic opinion about this practice as old as time. He believed that, to throughly enjoy it, he had to care for the person. Or at least be able to stand them. But he'd been glad after he and Narcissa lay in bed together, for the first time in a LONG time.  
  
But now, there would be a price to pay for their night of lustful passion.  
  
"What are we going to do?" Lucius finally asked. This time, it was Narcissa's turn to roll her eyes.  
  
"Well, what do you THINK I'll do? Get an abor-"  
  
"Don't SAY it!" Lucius snapped, causing his wife to jump in surprise. "Don't even think about it. Out of the question."  
  
"What?" She was clearly surprised by this. "Lucius, are you mad? What other choice do we have?"  
  
"We're going to have another child, I suppose..."  
  
"Are you out of your mind?" Narcissa demanded. She managed to jump up, even in her weak state. "I am NOT having another child for you! One was enough, a son to carry on the family name. And he's sixteen years old! We're too old for another child!"  
  
"Speak for yourself," Lucius mumbled, and Narcissa narrowed her eyes at him. "You're having that baby."  
  
"It's not your choice to make."  
  
"Oh, it's not?" Lucius gave his wife a pointed look. "Fine. You do as you please...but not in my house."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean," Lucius said slowly, "that you will leave. Get out. Never come back."  
  
"You can't-"  
  
"I CAN," Lucius said pointedly. "Care to change your mind, then?"  
  
"That's...that's blackmail."  
  
"Well," Lucius said with the Malfoy smirk, "if that's what it takes to keep you from being a murderer..."  
  
"YOU'RE a murderer."  
  
"Ah," Lucius said slowly, "that is another subject, my dear." That loving sentiment was hurled at Narcissa like a dirty insult, and she look a step back.  
  
"Fine," she said after staring at her husband for a long minute. "Fine. I'll have the blasted child. But you see how well Draco takes it."  
  
"I don't care HOW he takes it," Lucius said slowly. "It's none of his concern, now, is it?"  
  
"Oh!" With an impatient cry, Narcissa stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Lucius sighed and lay back down on his pillows.  
  
A baby. Narcissa was going to have a baby. He was going to be a father, all over again. Do I want that? he thought.  
  
Yes.  
  
He'd wanted more children for quite some time. Draco was a good child, the perfect son. But Lucius had always wanted a daughter. A little girl of his own.  
  
Of course, Narcissa had refused to produce any more children for him, claiming that Draco had nearly killed her during childbirth. Besides, she'd always say, who in their right mind would want to have more children then necessary? Just enough to pass on the family name.  
  
Well, Lucius thought with a small smile, I may finally get that daughter. Yes, a little girl to dress pretty and show off. A sweet, kind child. Lucius sighed. In a family like this, that wouldn't be likely. But having a daughter would be a dream come true for Lucius.  
  
A little Lenore Grace, after his late mother.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
That night at dinner, Lucius and Narcissa announced the news of the pregnancy to Draco. The boy, who'd already been growing distant that summer after his father's escape from Azkaban, got even more quiet. It saddened Lucius to see his son so miserable. But he'll get used to the idea, he assured himself.  
  
Narcissa picked up a goblet of wine and put it to her lips. In a panic, Lucius slapped it out of her hand, spilling wine everywhere. "Lucius, what in the WORLD-"  
  
"What are you thinking, you foolish twit?" Lucius demanded angrily. "You are PREGNAUT. You can't drink that when you're pregnaut!"  
  
Narcissa scowled as Lucius used his wand to clean the spilled wine. Draco threw down his napkin and asked to be excused, and Lucius refused. "You're going away to school in a week. We're going to be together as a family before you go." Draco looked at his father like the man had suddenly grown two heads. Needless to say, the rest of the meal was silent and uncomfortable for everyone there.  
  
It doesn't matter, Lucius told himself. Soon, they'll be as happy about the news as I am.  
  
Soon, we'll have a baby. And everyone will finally be happy again... 


	2. Part Two

A/N: Pregnant, not pregnaut. Duh, what's wrong with me? I knew something was wrong with that word. Anyways, sorry for the spelling error. I'll try to get it right now.  
  
"Grace of the Devil"  
  
Part Two:  
  
"Lucius! Luuuuuuuuuciuuuuuuuuus!"  
  
Lucius Malfoy, who was sitting in his study trying to read the "Daily Prophet", groaned at his wife's yells. But, dutifully, he got up and hurried up to their bedroom.  
  
For the past couple of months, Narcissa had been bed-ridden and miserable. Lucius had been waiting on her hand and foot, getting her anything and everything she wanted. But his pregnant wife never had a nice word for him. At least ten times a day she'd say something along the lines of, "You did this to me. I HATE you!"  
  
He entered the room to find Narcissa on the bed, breathing hard. He knew that this was serious this time, and he ran to her side. "Honey?" he asked in panic, using a rare loving sentiment to address her, "what's the matter?"  
  
Narcissa narrowed her eyes at him, still breathing hard. "It's...COMING!" she gasped, then screamed in pain as a contraction came.  
  
"But...but the midwife said you weren't-"  
  
"FUCK THE MIDWIFE! I'M HAVING THE BABY NOW!"  
  
I already did fuck the midwife, Lucius thought darkly as he looked down at his wife. But he had no time to dwell on this. "JINGLE!" A tiny house elf came into the room, cowering at her intimidating master. But her eyes went wide when she saw the sight on the bed.  
  
"What is it that Master is needing?"  
  
"Get the midwife, quickly!" Lucius yelled. The little elf curtised quickly and dashed out of the room before Lucius could kick her, like he was known to do.  
  
The midwife, a chubby but pretty young woman, came in a few minutes later. She, unlike the Malfoys, appeared perfectly calm. "The little one wants to bust out early, I guess," she joked as she took a seat next to the bed. She looked up at Lucius. "You may go now. We've got it from here."  
  
"Are you sure?" Lucius asked anxiously. "You don't need to get me anything, or-"  
  
"LUCIUS!" Narcissa screamed. "SHE SAID GET OUT, SO GET THE FUCK OUT!" Lucius didn't need to be told twice: he shot his wife a dirty look and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.  
  
But he didn't wander far. During Narcissa's labor with Draco, Lucius had spent the entire time working in the dungeon, not wanting his wife's screams to disturb him. But now, he didn't want to be too far away, in case he was needed. He had a house elf fetch a chair for him, and he sat right beside the doors to their room, waiting. He didn't do anything: didn't read the paper or a book or anything. Just sat and waited. Any brave house elf that dared to offer him anything was swiftly kicked at, and ran away.  
  
Hours later, Lucius was still sitting, having only gotten up once to use the bathroom. Narcissa's screams had reached their peak, and suddenly...the wail of a baby. Lucius jumped to his feet and, without knocking, threw the door open. A sweating, exhausted Narcissa and the midwife stared at him, but he didn't notice them. He was looking at the screaming child wrapped in a blanket in the midwife's arms. She grinned. "Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy. It's a girl."  
  
Lucius let out a cry of victory, something he hadn't done since he was a young man in school. Narcissa looked at him like he was insane, and Lucius ran to the midwife, eager to hold his daughter.  
  
"Just a moment, Mr. Malfoy. Give me the chance to clean her off!" To Lucius's disapointment, the midwife disapeared into the bathroom with his daughter. With a happy sigh, he sat down on the bed next to his wife.  
  
"A daughter," he muttered. "I have a daughter. Narcissa, WE have a daughter!" There was no reply. "Narcissa?" He looked at his wife, and smiled: she'd fallen asleep.  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
In the corner of the dimly lit room, Lucius sat in an armchair. He was exhausted, but too happy to sleep. In his arms was his daughter, sleeping peacefully. Lucius looked down at her, and smiled. A little girl of his own. It was too good to be true. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead.   
  
"Lucius?" a voice whispered from the darkness. It was Narcissa, finally awake after a long, much-deserved nap. Lucius carefully rose and went to his wife's side.  
  
"She's asleep," he whispered as he sat down on the bed.  
  
Narcissa snorted softly. "Like SHE needs to sleep. I'm the one who did all the work."  
  
"Narcissa..."  
  
"Oh, don't start," Narcissa said in a weak, irritated voice.  
  
Lucius sighed and looked down at his daughter again. "She's so beautiful," he murmured.  
  
Narcissa leaned over and examined her daughter's face. "She's kind of scrutched up and red."  
  
"Well, she's still beautiful," Lucius said fondly, though he was irritated by his wife's comment. "Our lovely little girl. Our perfect little Gracie." He looked down on her again. "Her hair is so dark."  
  
"You remember how Draco looked when he was born," Narcissa said casually. "He looked like a Spaniard, dark hair and skin and all. And look at him now: pale haired and skinned, like his father."  
  
"Hmmmm," Lucius said, half-listening. He was hypnotized by this little miracle in his arms. Narcissa managed to clear her throat rudely to get his attention.  
  
"Well?" she asked impatiently. "What do you have to say to me?"  
  
Lucius smiled at his wife, and leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Narcissa. This is all I've ever wanted. Thank you." 


	3. Part Three

"Grace of the Devil"  
  
Part Three:  
  
The child was named Lenore Grace Malfoy, as her father Lucius had planned. He was surprised when Narcissa hadn't fought for the right to name the baby: she'd almost resorted to violence when it came to their first child's name. Narcissa had named their son Draco Haden after her grandfather. But she was downright indifferent about her daughter.  
  
Lenore Grace, called Grace by the world and was her father's darling Gracie, was seen as a pest by her cold mother. She refused to have a hand in caring for the child, but Lucius didn't find this too strange: she hadn't done much in the care of Draco, either. But Lucius was hesitant to hire a governess for his daughter, his pride and joy. But his Death Eater duties, though small because he was currantly "hiding out", took up most of his time. So, he put out a notice for a governess, with a large salary.  
  
The women came by the dozens, driven by the payment of a thousand galleons a month. Lucius put them through harsh interviews and background checks. Nothing was too good for his little Gracie, and he was hesitant to leave her in the hands of a stranger. It was only after Narcissa complained about all the strangers in the house that Lucius knew he had to make a decision, and quickly. He picked a young woman, fresh out of Hogwarts, named Trinity Jones. The young woman was gentle with Lucius's precious daughter, so he was somewhat comforted to leave the baby in her governess's hands.  
  
By the time Trinity was settled in, Draco returned from his sixth year of school. Lucius felt somewhat sorry for his son, coming home to such a change after a long, hard year. He'd offered to pull the boy from school early to avoid exams, but to his surprise, Draco refused. I suppose he wants to get good marks so he can be Head Boy, like I was, Lucius thought, and didn't give the matter any more notice.  
  
Draco was even more quiet then he'd been the last summer and over Christmas holiday. He stayed in his room all day, refusing to see anyone. Lucius wasn't even sure if the boy had looked at his little sister for more then five minutes, let alone held her. Though it bothered him that his children weren't close, Lucius decided not to let it bother him. After all, seventeen years was a huge age gap, and Draco would eventually warm to his sister. Lucius hoped so, for he knew that his daugher and her mother would never had a good relationship. Narcissa had seen the baby only a little more then her son had, and handled the child as least often as possible. Whenever Lucius saw Narcissa with Grace, he could see that his wife clearly disliked their daughter.  
  
He, however, couldn't get enough of her. He was constantly playing with her, holding her, feeding her. He would hold her in one arm while trying to do paperwork with the other. He knew that he was paying Trinity for nothing, but he didn't care. Being around Grace made him the happiest he'd ever been, and he felt a fondness for her that he'd never even felt for Draco. He was in love with her soft, dark skin, and her little black curls. But most of all, he loved her huge blue eyes. They looked just like Narcissa's had years ago, full of sparkle and innocence. Lucius prayed that, unlike her mother, the look in Grace's eyes would never fade.   
  
********************************************************************  
  
Around the end of July, little Grace became ill and was crying almost constantly. Lucius took care of her himself as much as he could, but most of the time he was left for Trinity to care for. Lucius could see the strain that it caused the young woman: after only a couple of days of the crying, she had purple lines under her puffy red eyes. At least she's getting paid well for this, Lucius thought contently, and he got back to whatever he'd been doing. Whenever Draco had cried as a child, Lucius would retreat to the quiet dungeon as he had during his childbirth. But the sound of Grace's wails filled Lucius with happiness, and he felt young and invigorated again. He listened to his daughter's cries as one listens to their favorite music. It just didn't disturb him, not when he knew Trinity was caring for her.  
  
But one night, as Lucius sat reading in his study, the cries were too loud and too pained. He felt worried, and he knew he'd have to go upstairs to see Grace. He went up the stairs as quickly as he could, not wanting to keep his precious child waiting any longer. He went down the hall, past Draco's eternally closed doors and the doors to his and Narcissa's room (empty, for she had retreated for a holiday in Portugal after recovering from the child labor). Grace's nursary was at the end of the hall. Lucius opened the door and the loud screams filled his ears.  
  
And he gasped.  
  
He saw Trinity standing by the crib in the darkness, holding the child. Not close, not gently, as Lucius had seen her do. She was holding the girl at an arm's length in front of her, and...was SHAKING the baby.  
  
"Stop! Stop!" Trinity turned to her boss, horror and shock written on her face at the sight of him. She quickly put the screaming child to her chest.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, it's not-"  
  
"Give her to me, NOW!" Lucius screamed, rage filling him at the sight of this young woman holding his daughter. Trinity handed Grace to the angry Lucius, and took a startled step back. Lucius held the child to his chest, but his eyes were fixed angrily on the governess. He saw the strain in her eyes, and realized what had happened: she'd gotten so frustrated and angry that she SHOOK the baby.  
  
There was no excuse. "Get out," Lucius said in a dangerous whisper.  
  
"But, Mr. Malfoy-"  
  
"I said, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! I will not have you abusing my daughter anymore! Get out, OUT! Take your things, don't ever come back. GO, before I take my wand to you!"  
  
The startled young woman fled from the room. Lucius backed into the chair in the corner, and rocked the crying child in his arms. "There, there, Gracie," he whispered soothingly. "Daddy won't let that lady hurt you again, I promise. Daddy will take good care of his precious Gracie." Lucius didn't bother with baby-talk or other nonsense: he knew that Grace wasn't able to understasnd him, but she would someday.  
  
Eventually, the baby began to calm down. Lucius kissed the top of her head, rocking her until she slept. Even then, he didn't put her back in bed. He didn't want to leave. I never will leave her, he promised himself. No more governesses or nannies or any strangers to hurt her. I will provide her with the care she needs. I can do it. She means the world to me. Lucius kissed his daughter again.  
  
She will be mine, he told himself. Only mine. 


	4. Part Four

"Grace of the Devil"  
  
Part Four:  
  
At the end of July, Draco recieved his letter from school. He was Head Boy, and Lucius couldn't be any prouder...especially since his son had managed to beat the Potter boy. But Lucius had no time to give Draco attention. Grace was now taking up most of his time.  
  
When Draco recieved the news, Lucius was in his study, sitting in a chair as he held Grace in his arms. She was sucking milk from a bottle, and Lucius was staring down into the child's gorgeous blue eyes. He felt he would never get enough of the girl's eyes. She was so pretty, his pretty little girl.  
  
"Father?" Lucius looked up to see his son standing in the doorway, letter in hand. Lucius was surprised to see him: his son hadn't spoken to him most of that summer, and Lucius was determined not to mess this up.  
  
"Draco, come in," he said casually, holding back the excitement at seeing his son again. "Please, sit down."  
  
"I just wanted to show you..." Draco came in and held the Head Boy badge up for Lucius to see. He smiled at his son.  
  
"Very good, Draco."  
  
"Thank you, Father," Draco said nervously. He looked down at the floor. "I'll go write to Mum now..."  
  
"Congratulations, son."  
  
Draco nodded in aknowledgement and left the room quickly. Lucius felt his heart sink in disapointment. The boy was afraid of him, had always been. Have I done anything to make my own son fear me? he asked himself. Perhaps I've been cold and strict with him over the years, but never downright mean and abusive, not at all. Lucius wondered why he was suddenly noticing all this now...  
  
Then he looked down at the gift in his arms again.  
  
I can't mess up with Gracie, he told himself as he tickled the girl's chin. She will never want, and will always know comfort and love. I don't care what I have to do. She'll never do without.  
  
As the last weeks of Draco's summer holiday passed, Lucius grew more nervous at his son's leaving. It would be his last year at school, then he'd be moving out of the house. That was the Malfoy tradition: the boy moves out of the house until he marries, then takes over. But Lucius didn't WANT Draco to move out. He wanted him to stay, he wanted his son and his daughter and his WIFE to all get together and be a family. But Lucius knew that it was too much to ask for: Draco was growing up, and eager to get away. And Narcissa was so damn FLIGHTY. It's just me and Gracie, Lucius thought. It could be worse. I could be alone.  
  
Narcissa returned home a week before Draco was set to leave for school, looking just as tan from her holiday as the night Grace was concieved, a year ago. Narcissa gave no notice to her little daugther or her husband, and paid all her attention to her son. "Oh, my little boy is growing up so fast!" she'd constantly declare, hugging the boy around the neck. It was at times like these that Lucius would pick Grace up and leave the room.  
  
After Draco went off to school, Narcissa left for another holiday: this time, to Liverpool to see her cousins. "They want me to bring the baby, but-"  
  
"Over my dead body," Lucius had said in a cold, hoarse voice, surprising her wife.  
  
She then scowled. "Of course I don't want to take the little brat. I told them that she was too young to travel."  
  
Little brat. That was what Narcissa referred to her beautiful little daughter as. The night after his wife left, Lucius was rocking the baby in the nursery. He looked down at the peacefully sleeping child, and thought, how could anyone call her a "little brat"? She's perfect.  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
One September morning, Lucius felt his upper arm begin to ache. Oh, no, he thought. It can't be...but when he lifted his robes, Lucius confirmed his dreaded suspicions: his Dark Mark was in full view. Lord Voldemort was calling.  
  
But what could he do? He couldn't leave the baby by herself, not with Narcissa still gone on holiday. And Lucius refused to trust any of the house elves to take care of his darling baby. He didn't particularly want to take her, but...what other choice did he have? So, Lucius dressed the baby in her finest little dress and Apparated them to the Death Eater headquarters...Tom Riddle's old house.  
  
To Lucius's surprise, the sitting room where the Death Eaters normally met was strangly empty. Only one person sat there: Voldemort's little rat-man slave, Pettigrew. The short, stout man stood up to greet his fellow Death Eater. "Hello, Malfoy," he said in casual coldness. Ever since the night of the Dark Lord's resurrection, Pettigrew had feared no one...but the Dark Lord himself, of course. And, Lucius suspected, the Potter boy.  
  
Lucius nodded his head in greeting. "Good morning, Pettigrew. Where are the others?"  
  
Pettigrew ignored the question: instead, he set his eyes upon the baby. "What is that?" he asked, in a tone that irritated Lucius. He pressed the child protectivly to his chest.  
  
"My daughter," he said coldly. He hoped that Pettigrew wouldn't ask any more questions, but he was spared as the Dark Lord, Voldemort himself, came into the room. Lucius promptly fell to his knees, as did Pettigrew. Voldemort stood above Lucius.  
  
"Rise, Malfoy. You are faithful to come so quickly, though no less is expected of you." Lucius rose to his feet, and Voldemort caught sight of Grace. "What is that?" he asked, in tone similar to Pettigrew's. But Lucius couldn't afford to act coldly to his master.  
  
"It is my daughter, master. My wife gave birth to her three months ago, and-"  
  
"Silence," Voldemort interuppted coldly. "I didn't ask for the girl's life story." He stepped too close to the baby, and used one of his long, spidery fingers to stroke the child's face. It was a caress similar to Lucius's own loving touches, but Grace knew the difference. The baby whimpered, Lucius could've sworn that he saw a fearful look in his daughter's eyes. He had to use his best self control not to pull her out of the Dark Lord's reach.  
  
Voldemort laughed loudly and coldly at the child's reaction. "She doesn't like me," he said, his snake-like face wearing a look of amusement. He examined the girl's face. "She looks nothing like you, Malfoy."  
  
"She resembles her mother's side of the family, the Blacks," Lucius said. Voldemort clucked his snake-like tongue, and Lucius felt a rage burning inside of him. But he fought it back. "What did you call me for, my Lord?"  
  
"Ah, yes," Voldemort said, tearing his eyes from the child. "Wormtail," he said, addressing his rat slave, "take the Malfoy girl into another room."  
  
"But, master-" Lucius began, but stopped when the Dark Lord's evil, red-eyed gaze fell on him.  
  
"Are you defying me, Malfoy?"  
  
"No, master," he muttered helplessly. "Never."  
  
"That's what I thought," Voldemort said triumphantly. "Wormtail, the child..." As Pettigrew grabbed the child from his arms, Lucius leaned over and whispered in the other man's ear: "If one hair is misplaced on her head, then I shall perform the Crucio curse on you until your ass bleeds." Pettigrew gave the other man a sneer, but Lucius could see fear in his eyes. Good, he thought, Grace will be alright."  
  
"Sit down, Malfoy," Voldemort said as soon as Pettigrew was out the door. Voldemort sat in the only chair in the room, a wide armchair. Lucius knelt on the floor at his master's feet. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here today. You and only you."  
  
"Yes, master."  
  
"I have an important mission for you," the Dark Lord said. "I haven't had much use for you in the past year, after your escape from Azkaban. But I believe you're perfectly safe from detection from the Ministry: the Azkaban records have been abandoned since last year, since there are so many breakouts and so many new prisoners, you see."  
  
"Yes, master," Lucius said. He'd read some about this in the "Daily Prophet".  
  
"Then perhaps you are aware that the Ministry has supposedly come up with a new way to guard the prison," Voldemort said slowly, but his hissing voice sounded angrier. "Our Ministry spies have no idea what's going on, and I was hoping I could sneak someone in there to find out."  
  
"Me, my Lord?" Lucius asked, realizing what Voldemort was implying.  
  
"Yes, you," Voldemort said coldly. "Though you were foolishly caught by the Ministry before, I am giving you a second chance, Malfoy. You must sneak into the prison and get the information for me."  
  
Lucius knew that taking the mission of his only option. But what about Grace? he wondered. He'd have to hire someone to take care of her while he was gone, or enlist the help of a trusting house elf...or worse, call Narcissa back home. But Lucius knew that he couldn't refuse this mission, couldn't say that he had to stay home and take care of his baby instead. So, he dutifully kissed the Dark Lord's pale, dangling hand.  
  
"Yes, my Lord," he whispered. "I accept the mission."  
  
"Good," Voldemort said with an evil hiss that sent chills down Lucius's spine. 


	5. Part Five

"Grace of the Devil"  
  
Part Five:  
  
After Lucius and a small group of Death Eaters completed their spy mission, Lucius was sent on various missions over the next few months. When he was gone from Malfoy Manor, he left Grace to the care of Trixie, his most compitant house elf. "You're the only one I can count on," he'd told the small elf. She was the only one who didn't cower in his presence, and he wasn't sure if this annoyed him or made him respect her.  
  
Instead of grinning with stupid pride like any other house elf, Trixie took the compliment with a quiet dignity, so rare in house elves. "Yes, Master. Trixie will take good care of Miss Grace."  
  
Narcissa continued to stay away from the manor, and only wrote occasionally to ask for money. Lucius was more then glad to oblidge: if money was what it took to keep his wife away, so be it. Things were quieter at home without her raging around.  
  
Grace was growing, rapidly. She was soon able to sit up by herself, and Lucius had to keep an eye out when she began crawling around the manor. He put up barriers on all the stairs, ones that only he could pass through. The house elves were forced to climb up them to get around, but they did so without complaining. Lucius didn't care about their inconviences: all that mattered was his little Gracie.  
  
She also began "talking": baby babble, nothing more. But Lucius knew that she was trying to say SOMETHING, and he pretended to understand her.  
  
"Bababababa booooo," she'd say.  
  
"Oh, really?" Lucius said, with a tone of interest. "What eles, my dear?" Whenever they had their "conversations", the pretty little girl would grin at him, showing her few teeth.  
  
Teething was a nightmare. But Lucius bore it with a patience that only the best parents could. The house, once so clean, had countless teething rings and toys scattered about. No mattter what room they were in, Lucius had something to shove in Grace's mouth when she began to fuss. He told the house elves not to pick anything up, but to keep the floors spotlessly clean: he didn't want his Grace chewing germ-covered things.  
  
All in all, being a single parent was a delight for the man. He found that he was in a better mood all the time, with the exception of when he was on his Death Eater missions. They were few and far between, however, and most of the time Lucius was left home with his lovely Grace.  
  
By that spring, Lucius could tell that changes were occuring. His missions became less and less, and he kept reading in the "Daily Prophet" about the Ministry catching important Death Eaters, and how Azkaban was finally holding up. Dementors had even started returning. What is happening? Lucius wondered.  
  
One night, his arm began to have that familiar ache. He was in the dining room, feeding Grace her dinner. She was nearly a year old now, and she still had a dark complexion and hair. Draco's had faded within his first six months, but Lucius didn't think much of his daughter's appearance. Except, of course, that she was the loveliest girl in the entire world.  
  
When Lucius saw that his Death Eater mark had returned, he called Trixie to finish feeding the baby. "When she is finished, give her a bath and put her down for bed. Remember, she can't sleep without her-"  
  
"Yes, Master," Trixie interuppted patiently. "Trixie is knowing what to do."  
  
Lucius bent down and kissed his daughter on the forehead. "Goodbye, darling. Daddy will be back soon."  
  
"Da-dee!" the girl said with a smile. Lucius smiled and walked out of the room. He didn't want to Apparate in front of his daughter. In the drawing room, he sighed and Apparated to the Death Eaters' meeting place.  
  
When Lucius arrived, Tom Riddle's sitting room was already crowded with Death Eaters. Lucius soon found his "friends", Crabbe, Goyle, and Macnair, and they stood together, waiting for their master to appear.  
  
Finally, Pettigrew came out from the back room, followed by Lord Voldemort. The Death Eaters all dutifully fell to their knees, and Lord Voldemort stood in the center of them. "Rise," he commanded.  
  
The Death Eaters scurried to their feet, and Voldemort looked around at all of them. "Anyone missing?" he asked himself softly. "Where is Macnair?"  
  
"I am here, my Lord," Macnair said dutifully, bowing. Voldemort nodded in aknowledgment and keep looking around at the crowd. A flint of a smile, an evil smile, came to his snake-like face.   
  
"Good, all my faithful servants have arrived." He stood in the center of them all, and all eyes were on him. Lucius wondered vaguely what he had called them here for. Something big, he suspected. The last full meeting they'd had was the night of Lord Voldemort's resurrection, three years ago.  
  
"You are probably wondering why I called you here," Voldemort said, as though he'd read their minds. Then again, he probably had. "As I'm sure you've all heard, scores of our faithful ones have been captured and thrown into Azkaban." Lucius looked around at the circle. Yes, undoubtedly there were many gaps amoungst them. Voldemort continued: "What are we to do, Death Eaters? Are we to keep letting the Ministry of Magic capture us all, until there's no one left? No...we must stand and fight them."  
  
Everyone began muttering amoungst themselves. Fight? Was this goign to be it? The Final Battle? Lucius was the only one not speaking, until the Dark Lord demanded silence again.  
  
"Yes," he said, with a snake-like hiss. "You all know what has come. This is it, my Death Eaters. In two weeks, we will have our attack on Azkaban. We must wait...we have some new faithfuls joining us from the students of Hogwarts." Lucius felt his stomach lurch. Not...Draco?  
  
Lord Voldemort continued. "I will call for you in two weeks. You will all come here, and we will go to Azkaban. Any of you who try to get out of it will be found and killed..." Lucius wasn't sure, but he could've sworn that Voldemort's cold red eyes looked his way when he spoke those final words. Lucius tried to remain calm.  
  
"I send you on your way now," Voldemort said. "Be ready. The battle is coming."  
  
There were loud popping all around as the Death Eaters hurried away. Lucius stood in a daze for a moment. When Voldemort's eyes met his again, Lucius Disapparated.  
  
The Final Battle, he thought when he arrived to his drawing room. We're going to storm Azkaban. Of course, some of us will die...what if I die? What will become of Grace?'  
  
Thinking of his daughter sent Lucius quickly up the stairs and to the nursery. He found Trixie in the rocking chair, feeding Grace her before-bed bottle. Trixie looked up when Lucius burst in and put a finger to her lips, looking irritated. "Master must be quiet, Miss Grace is going to sleep."  
  
"Give her to me, Trixie," Lucius whispered. The house elf obeyed, and Lucius took her place in the rocking chair. Grace looked up at him with big blue eyes, and smiled. "Drink up, darling," he said gently.   
  
I can't leave her, he told himself as she drank her bottle. When she finished, he held her to his shoulder and burped her. She snuggled against him, and Lucius leaned back and closed his eyes. I won't leave her, he told himself. I don't care what I have to do. I'm not going to that battle.   
  
In the darkness of the nursery, as the baby girl slept on his shoulder, Lucius cried softly as he held her daughter tightly in his arms. 


	6. Part Six

"Grace of the Devil"  
  
Part Six:  
  
The next two weeks went by too quickly for Lucius. The morning of the battle, his upper arm began to have that familiar ache. He was still in bed, and he wondered what he was going to do. Stay where he was? Grace's cries finally drew him from his bed to her nursery.  
  
He went in and saw Grace standing up, waiting. When she saw her father, she stopped crying and smiled. Lucius, even in this stressful time, couldn't help smiling back. "Good morning, beautiful."  
  
"Da-dee!"  
  
Lucius picked his daughter up and took her to the changing table. As he changed her, Jingle came in and curtsied. "Is Master needing anything?"  
  
Lucius looked down at his daughter, and was suddenly hit with an idea. He knew where he was going to be during the battle...right here at home. "Yes," he finally said to the eager house elf. "Gather up a large basket. As much food and as many blankets and toys as you can. And take it to the dungeons." Jingle stared at him, confused. "Hurry!" he yelled, sending her away.  
  
He quickly dressed Grace and took her downstairs. The kitchen elves had already prepared a breakfast, and Lucius fed his daughter quickly. He didn't eat himself...he was too nervous. Finally, when Grace had had her fill, Lucius picked her up and took her to the kitchen, where the house elves were washing the breakfast dishes. They stopped what they were doing and bowed when their master came in.  
  
"Enough! Stand up!" They all stood, and Lucius addressed each of them. "This is very important, so listen! Miss Grace and I are going to the dungeons. Trixie," he said, addressing his most compitant house elf, "you are coming with us."  
  
"Yes, Master," she said with a curtsy.  
  
"The rest of you are to stay here. Go about your chores as usual. And be on the lookout. Something very important will be happening today. When you recieve any news, bring it down to us. Otherwise, bother us for nothing. Is that understood?" Several pairs of bat-like ears flapped as the house elves nodded. "Good. Come, Trixie."  
  
Lucius led the way to the dungeon stairs. He'd never taken Grace down there before, because it was so dark and cold. No place for a little girl, he told himself. But sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures.  
  
Trixie went ahead of them, lighting all the torches on the narrow, spiral stairway. Lucius held his daughter tighter to him, who'd begun to whimper a little. "There, there, Gracie," he said soothingly, rubbing her little back. "Daddy's here."  
  
When they reached the small dungeons, Trixie lit all of the torches on the walls and started a big fire in the old stone fireplace. Lucius spread out the blankets for Grace to walk and crawl on.   
  
"Master?" Trixie asked carefully. "What is we doing down here?"  
  
Lucius turned to the house elf, half-annoyed by the question. But it was Trixie: if it had been any other elf, he wouldn't tell. But he decided to fill her in. "It's the Final Battle."  
  
"For the Death Eaters, Master?"  
  
"Yes," Lucius said simply.  
  
Trixie didn't ask why he hadn't gone with his fellow Death Eaters. Instead she said, "They is going to lose." It wasn't a question: it was a fact. Lucius just nodded and stared at the fire.  
  
The hours stretched on and on in the dungeons. Lucius kept checking his golden chain-watch. How can it only be noon? he wondered to himself. It feels like we've been here years. Poor Grace... He'd long ago wrapped his daughter in blankets and placed the cold child in front of the fire. She'd fallen asleep, thankfully, but Lucius stayed awake, waiting out the seconds, minutes, hours of that day. Trixie hovered around, not really sure what to do in the mostly-empty dungeons when she usually spent her day doing chores upstairs. Lucius finally got frustrated and snapped, "Sit by Miss Grace, Trixie. You make me so nervous."  
  
"Sorry, Master," she mumbled in shame as she sat down next to the sleeping baby.  
  
When Grace woke up, Lucius fed her with food from the basket, and watched as she played with some of her toys. But he had one eye on the stairs, listening for the patter of an elf's feet, coming down with news.  
  
Around four, Trixie asked if she should go upstairs and see if anything had come in. Lucius was half-tempted, but he couldn't risk it: what if some of his fellow Death Eaters were waiting up there. So he said no, and the house elf remained in place.  
  
It was nearly eight, after Grace had eatten her supper, when the news came. Lucius sat with his daughter in the only chair in the dungeon, holding her cold little body close. She'd fallen asleep again, but Lucius wondered if he'd ever be able to sleep properly again. Suddenly, he heard the sound he'd been waiting nearly twelve hours for: someone was coming down the stairs.  
  
"Master! Master!" Into the light of the torches appeared Nollie, a kitchen elf. He looked excited and distressed. "The battle has ended, Master. Harry Potter has killed your master..."  
  
Lucius nodded and stood up. "Good. It's over."  
  
"That's not all, Master!" Nollie yelled. "It's...it's..." Suddenly, the elf burst into tears. "Oh, M-Master! It's t-terrible!"  
  
"What is?" Lucius snapped impatienly. Couldn't this damn elf get this over with? He had a cold little girl to get upstairs.  
  
"It's Master Draco, sir!" the sobbing elf managed to squeak. "The owl just came and-and-and...he's DEAD!" 


	7. Part Seven

"Grace of the Devil"  
  
Part Seven:  
  
After Draco's death, Narcissa stayed home only a little more often. Her trips were still long, and she took many of them, but she tried to stay home at least a week in between them. Although Lucius couldn't figure out what the point was: she completely ignored both him and Grace.  
  
Lucius kept up with the news in the wizarding world with his subscription to the "Daily Prophet". It said how the Ministry was trying to rebuild the damage that Voldemort and his followers had caused. More and more Death Eaters were getting caught, and Azkaban was finally holding up again. Lucius knew that it was only a matter of time before he was caught.  
  
But it was nearly two years before that happened. In that time, Grace had turned three. She'd gone from her crib to a small bed. She was toilet trained. And she grew more and more beautiful, at least to her father, every day. Everything facinated her, and she was constantly asking questions. Lucius calmly answered them, whereas Narcissa, when she was around Grace (that was very rare) would snap, "Don't be a nosy little girl." It would break Lucius's heart to see his daughter's eyes fill with tears at her mother's rejection, and he tried to make up for it with kindness and presents. He wondered vaguely what would become of her when the Ministry finally found him, but he usually managed to drive those thoughts from his mind.  
  
But one day, those fears became a reality. It was late one night, and Lucius was reading a book in his study. Narcissa and Grace had both gone to bed long ago, and he was enjoying the peaceful silence. But he suddenly heard the sound of the knocker banging on the front door. A few minutes later, Jingle the house elf appeared in the study. "Master, a man is at the door to see you."  
  
"Ask him in," Lucius said impatiently, but Jingle shook her head.  
  
"He says it is important, and Master must-"  
  
"All RIGHT!" Lucius snapped, making Jingle tremble as he rose and stormed past her, out of the study and to the front hall. He was surprised to see the red-haired Arthur Weasley standing there, in official Ministry of Magic uniforms. He was examining the portrait of Lucius's grandmother in the front hall. Lucius cleared his throat to make his presense known, and Weasley turned to him in surprise.   
  
"Good evening, Lucius," he said. "I'm sorry to bother you so late, but-"  
  
"Why are you here, then?" Lucius asked coldly, forgetting his manners. Weasley shifted in discomfort and cleared his throat.  
  
"Official Ministry business," he replyed, trying to sound intimidating. Lucius sneered openly.  
  
"I assure you, Arthur, that all the enchanted Muggle items I once had have long since been sold." It was true: he'd had to get rid of them, so Grace wouldn't find them and get hurt.  
  
Weasley smiled a little. "Actually, I no longer work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department. I'm here for the Control of Dark Wizards department."  
  
"I see," Lucius said slowly, his sneer deepening. "You've been promoted, I see."  
  
"You could say that," Weasley said, in a proud tone that made Lucius almost laugh. "And I'm here to arrest you."  
  
"On what grounds?" Lucius asked smoothly.  
  
"For your involvment with...with You-Know-Who's inner circle," Weasley said, losing some of his confidence. Lucius was amused: he always loved it when people couldn't say his former master's name.  
  
"You mean, Voldemort?" he asked for amusement, watching Weasley flinch. Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone coming down the stairs.  
  
"Lucius? What is..." Both men looked at the stairs, and saw Narcissa standing there, wearing a robe over her nightgown. "Oh!" she cried in surprise when she saw Arthur Weasley. Without another word, she ran up the stairs. Lucius heard the door to her room slam a minute later, and he turned back to Arthur.  
  
"What were you saying?" he drawled casually.  
  
"Well...you're under arrest," Weasley said. "I have to take you in."  
  
"I see..." Lucius met the man's eyes, in a stare that made Weasley look away in discomfort. "You are aware, aren't you, that I wasn't at the Final Battle?"  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"My son died in that battle."  
  
Weasley looked at Lucius again. "I'm sorry for your loss."  
  
"The hell you are," Lucius hissed, losing his cool. But he got his composure back quickly. "It was two years ago. I know what the Ministry must be saying about me, that I wimped out. Is that true?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
"May I set you straight, then?" Lucius asked slickly. "I wasn't being a coward, if that's what you're thinking. I was here at home, it is true. But I was here to protect my daughter."  
  
"Your daughter...?"  
  
"You are aware that my wife gave birth three years ago?" Lucius asked in mild surprise. "My, my, Arthur, you don't keep very good track. I always knew when your wife gave birth to another little weasle. Of course, I could just guess a random date, and it would most likely be right."  
  
"How dare-"  
  
"Don't get indignant, Arthur," Lucius said smoothly. "You have too many children, and you know it. But you can understand why I had to be here that day, can't you? You know the important of protecting your children."  
  
Weasley sighed. "Just the same, Lucius, I have to take you in. Whether you were at that Battle or not, you were still in...in HIS circle. You're under arrest for crimes against the wizarding community."  
  
"Very well, then," Lucius said, knowing that it would do no one any good if he fought. "But may I have a moment to say goodbye to my daughter." With that, he turned to the stairs. Sitting there, staring down at them through the bars, was Grace. He'd heard her little feet patter down the hall and sit herself on the steps.  
  
"Why...of course," Arthur said helplessly.  
  
"Come down, Gracie," Lucius coaxed lovingly. The little girl rose and, slowly and carefully, came down the stairs and stood before her father. He got down on his knees and looked her in the eyes, hands on her little shoulders. "Gracie, what are you doing up, darling? It's so very late."  
  
"I heard noises," the girl said, and Lucius smiled. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Daddy has to go away," Lucius said softly, and tears filled Grace's blue eyes.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"On a little trip," Lucius said. "Don't worry, Gracie, I won't be gone too long." He gave Arthur a pointed look when he said this. Weasley looked away, uncomfortable again. Lucius turned back to his daughter. "Shall I get you a sleeping potion?"  
  
"Okay," the girl said obediantly. Lucius got to his feet and picked the girl up. "We'll be back," he said to Weasley, and he took his little girl into the kitchen. The hard-working elves were still in there, cleaning and cooking. They looked up when their master came in. "Nollie," he said quickly, "get Miss Grace a sleeping potion."  
  
Nollie handed Lucius a small vial filled with red liquid. Lucius carried his daughter back down the hall and sat with her on the floor in the front hall. He could feel Weasley's eyes on them, in interest, as he gave the girl the vial.  
  
"Drink this, my sweet." Grace obeyed, downing the liquid. When she finished, she made a face.   
  
"Yuck."  
  
Lucius kissed her forehead. "I love you, Gracie."  
  
"Love you, Daddy." With those final, beautiful words, Grace fell into her father, asleep. Lucius gathered her in his arms.  
  
"I'm going to tuck her in. Then we shall go." Arthur began to follow them up the stairs, but Lucius snapped, "Wait here!" He slowly carried his daughter up the stairs, down the hall to her nursery. When he passed Narcissa's room, he heard her pacing around inside.  
  
He tucked Grace into her little bed, wrapping the linen sheets around her tightly. He looked at her, for the last time in a long time, he knew. He finally bent down and kissed her forehead, one last time. "Goodbye, Gracie."  
  
Lucius went downstairs, where Arthur Weasley was waiting. "Alright," he said casually, "let's go." He allowed Arthur Weasley to lead him out of the house in magical handcuffs, and into a Minstry car. Lucius gave the manor one last, fleeting glimpse, before they disapeared. 


	8. Part Eight

"Grace of the Devil"  
  
Part Eight:  
  
During the year in Azkaban, Lucius suffered a broken heart. He missed Grace horribly, and the Dementors enjoyed being around his cell when he thought about her: his emotional aching was a feast for them. Damn them, he thought weakly as he lay on the floor of his cell. Oh, Gracie. My poor, poor baby...  
  
He wrote to her, once a week. He hoped that Narcissa or Trixie (one of the few literate house elves around) would read it to her. He wrote lies, saying that he was in Africa buying her presents and exploring the jungle. He smiled as he remembered the stories he told her of wizards in the jungle, but a Dementor would float by and leave him sad all over again.  
  
Lucius also wrote that he was buying her presents, and he intended to do that when he got out. IF I get out, he thought sadly. The only true thing he wrote her was that he loved her. "Be good for Mummy," all his letters would end. "I love you so much, my Gracie." And out the letters would go, once a week.  
  
A little over a year after his incarseration began, Lucius recieved his very first visitor. During his whole stay, his wife hadn't come to see him once. Grace hadn't been by, and he preferred it that way: he didn't want his little baby to see him this way, dirty and weak, though he missed her horribly. He'd rather have her live in a wonderful lie then the horrible truth. I must protect her, he told himself.  
  
His visitor came right to his cell, completly unexpected. Lucius knew the drill for visitors, though he'd never recieved one: you were given a day's notice, and would be led to a meeting room, guarded by Dementors, to see them. So when Lucius woke from his nap and found Cornelius Fudge looking in at him, he was a little more then surprised. He jumped and stared at the fat man on the other side of the cell, and the Minister smiled.  
  
"Well, well," Fudge said mockingly, "how the mighty have fallen."  
  
Lucius slowly got to his feet, glaring at his former ally. "Nice to see you, too, Cornelius."  
  
The Minister snickered. "You look...well, I've seen you better, Lucius."  
  
Lucius looked down at his dirty grey robes and his shaggy, blond hair. Damn bastard. "Yes, well...hard to keep yourself in this place. Although I see that you managed to let yourself go without Azkaban to help," he added with a sneer, glaring at Fudge's pot belly.   
  
Fudge gave him an indignant look. "You better watch your mouth, Malfoy. I came here for business, and I thought you'd be interested."  
  
"I see," Lucius said, going over to the bars. Startled, Fudge took a step back. "What sort of business?"  
  
"I've been working to have you released," Fudge said, causing Lucius's blond eyebrows to arch. "It hasn't been easy, but I managed to break the members of the Wizenmagot. You're up for a trial, and if you do everything I say, your release will be most certain."  
  
Lucius eyed the Minister with suspicion. "All right, then. What do I have to do?"  
  
"Well, you will, of course, have to swear your loyalty to the Ministry and the wizarding community."  
  
"Go on..."  
  
"You'll have to name names," Fudge said, and Lucius could've sworn that some of the prisoners in the cells around them looked out at them. "But you don't have to come up with the names yourself," Fudge continued. He pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to Lucius. Listed were the names of some of Lucius's fellow Death Eaters. "Just read this list. Some of these people are under suspicion, some have already been caught. You won't be giving them anything to go on, just a way to prove your loyalty."  
  
Lucius pocketed the list. "I have a feeling that there's more."  
  
"Ah, yes," Fudge said. "I have gone to a lot of trouble for you. I feel that it's worth...one hundred thousand?"  
  
"One hundred thousand!" Lucius thundered.   
  
"Calm down, or the Dementors will be here in a minute!" Fudge scolded. "Well? Do we have a deal?"  
  
One hundred thousand galleons! That was more then he'd ever given Fudge at one time. It was robbery! But it was his key to freedom...his way back to Grace...  
  
"Yes, a deal," Lucius said bitterly. Fudge smiled in triumph and held out a hand to shake on the deal. Lucius pointed ignored the outstretched hand. Embarressed, Fudge cleared his throat and put his hand down.  
  
"Your trial is tomorrow morning. I will be here to pick you up myself. Rest well."  
  
"Yes. Thank you, Minister." Fudge walked swiftly down the cooridor, his expensive shoes banging against the cement floors. Lucius retreated to the corner of his cell and sank to the floor. Damn him! One hundred thousand galleons! But it would all be worth it, if he could only be with his daughter again...she was all he had now.  
  
The next day, Lucius took his list to the courtroom in the Ministry of Magic. He took the oath of loyalty, read the list of names, and left, arm in arm, with the Minister. He was free.  
  
Lucius hastily got the Minister to Gringotts and got one hundred thousand galleons from his account transferred to Fudge's. When the transaction was complete, Fudge turned to him with a triumphant grin and handed Lucius his wand. "Congratulations, Malfoy. You are free."  
  
Before Apparating home, Lucius took a quick shopping trip around Diagon Alley, buying every expensive toy he could find. With bags bulging with toys for Grace, he finally Apparated home.  
  
It seemed that the house was expecting him. Narcissa was sitting in the drawing room, her fingers drumming nervously against the arm of the leather couch. She jumped up when her husband came in. "I got word from the Ministry yesterday, but I could hardly believe it...you are home." But there was no affection in her eyes, only mild relief. Lucius barely looked at her before turning away.   
  
"Where is my daughter?"  
  
Narcissa looked very annoyed. "In her room. She is asleep."  
  
"You've been taking care of her, I trust?"  
  
Narcissa snorted. "No. The day you left, I sent out for a nurse."  
  
"I see." Lucius wasn't angry: he wasn't even surprised. "I will be dismissing her, then. How much have you been paying her?"  
  
"One thousand a month."  
  
"I will give her a note for twelve thousand more and send her on her way." He was throwing money left and right on this day, but hell...he felt generous.  
  
"Fine," Narcissa said bitterly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I was getting ready for a trip to the states when the letter came. I am leaving tonight."  
  
"Good." Narcissa stormed out of the room, and Lucius sank down into his favorite armchair, exhausted after the long day. He'd woken up in his cell in Azkaban, and now he was finally home. Home...to his Grace...  
  
Lucius quickly rose and went up the stairs. He started down the hall to Grace's nursery, when he saw that the door to one of the guest rooms was open. Lucius looked in and saw a stout, grey-haired woman, packing things into a trunk. She looked to the doorway, as if she sensed his presence, and smiled. "Mr. Malfoy, I assume?"  
  
"Yes," he said, coming in. "I hope I wasn't interuppting anything?"  
  
"Not at all. I was expecting you." She shut her full trunk and turned back to him. "Your wife told me you'd be coming home, and that I would no longer be needed."  
  
"Yes," Lucius said. "But, I very much appreciate all you've done. Grace...she's very important to me."  
  
"I know," the nurse said kindly. "I read all the letters you sent. She keeps them in a box in her room."  
  
"Thank you," Lucius said curtiously. "I was wondering if Grace was getting them."  
  
"She was facinated by her daddy's trips around the world," the nurse said with a grin. "She was very excited, saying that you'd be buying her presents..." She eyed the many shopping bags. "I see that you were good to your word."  
  
"Nothing is too good for her."  
  
"She's wonderful," the nurse said softly. "I took care of her as if she were my own."  
  
"I'm sorry to turn you away," Lucius said. "I would keep you if I thought we needed you..." The nurse held up her hand to stop him.  
  
"Don't worry," the nurse said. "I've had plenty of jobs in my time. I will find another."  
  
"You can stay, until you do."  
  
"That is kind of you, but I really must be going. I can stay with my daughter in London, until I find work."  
  
"Here," Lucius said quickly. He pulled his Gringotts book out of his cloak and wrote out a note. "What is your name?" he asked, embarressed that he hadn't asked before.  
  
"Europa Starsky," the nurse answered without a pause. Lucius made a note to have twelve thousand galleons transfered from his acount to hers. He held out the note for her to take, but she drew back from it. "Oh, sir, I couldn't."  
  
"Please," Lucius begged, holding the note out. "You've been so good to my Gracie, I want to repay you."  
  
"You don't have to," Europa insisted. "If you give me the note, I'll burn it. Put it away."  
  
Lucius sighed in defeat. "You are a good woman."  
  
Europa shook her head. "Don't praise me, sir. I only do what's right." She pulled out her wand and muttered a spell to make her trunk float. "I will take the Knight Bus to London now."  
  
"Thank you...for everything."  
  
Europa smiled kindly and shook Lucius's hand. "You must be itching to see her."  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
"Alright, but try not to wake her too soon. She hasn't been well lately."  
  
"Oh, my poor baby," Lucius muttered in distress. The nurse smiled again.  
  
"Not to worry, she's just fine. A little cold, nothing more. But she needs to rest."  
  
"Of course, I'll only see her for a moment. I won't even wake her up."  
  
"Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy." And with that, Europa Starsky took her levitated trunk and left the room. Lucius remained in her room-the guest room-until she had gone out the front door. Thank goodness she was here, Lucius thought. She took care of Grace when I couldn't.   
  
The reminder of his daughter drew him quickly from the room and down the hall to his original destination: Grace's nursary. Lucius opened the door carefully, and found the small room lit with only one candle. In the light, he could see Grace sleeping in her bed. Just as I left her, he thought. It's almost like nothing has changed. He sat down in the chair next to the bed...he imaged that Europa had been sitting there earlier, nursing the sick child.  
  
Lucius watched his daughter sleep for several minutes. When he couldn't resist it any longer, he reached out with a gentle finger and brushed a black curl off her forehead. But that was enough to make the girl's blue eyes open. She blinked at him in surprise. "Daddy?" she whispered.  
  
She remembered! Lucius felt his heart begin to thump happily. "Yes, Sweetheart. I'm home." He reached over and wrapped his little girl in a hug. "Oh, I missed you."  
  
"I missed you, too," the child whispered. Lucius kissed her head and held her close.  
  
"I'll never leave you again," he promised. "Never again..." 


	9. Part Nine

"Grace of the Devil"  
  
Part Nine:  
  
Grace drew herself further into the shadows and put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. She could hear the heavy footsteps of her nurse elf, Trixie, as she searched the room. "Miss Grace, stop this! Master is waiting for you downstairs!" Grace giggled again as the elf drew nearer.  
  
"Boo!" Grace cried, jumping out from her hiding place. Trixie jumped back with a hand over her chest.  
  
"Miss Grace, you is a naughty girl!" she scolded, still holding her chest as Grace laughed. "Now, put on your dress. Master is waiting." In spite of her scoldings, Grace could see affection in the old elf's eyes as she helped the little girl into her blue velvet dress. After tying a matching ribbon in her black curls, Trixie sent Grace down the stairs to meet her father in the dining room.  
  
As Grace entered the large room, she saw her father look up from his plate and smile. "Good morning, beautiful," he greeted her as she came to the side of her chair.  
  
"Morning," Grace sang happily before planting a kiss on her father's pale cheek. Lucius looked at her.  
  
"Grace, step back for a moment." He took his daughter's hands gently and held her away at an arm's length to examine her. "Is that a new dress?"  
  
Grace giggled in proud delight. "Yup."  
  
"It's so lovely," he said admirably. "You're such a pretty girl, Gracie."  
  
"Thank you, Daddy."  
  
"Sit down, darling, before your breakfast gets cold."  
  
Grace sat down quickly, and carefully put her napkin in her lap before eatting. She saw her father's smile of approval: he always told her to use her manners and be a little lady. And Grace wanted to please her father, because he was kind to her and bought her presents. Mother isn't nice to me, she thought bitterly. She barely knew her mother, who was always gone on trips. But when she was home, she wasn't nice to Grace.   
  
"Darling? What's the matter?" Lucius had noticed that his daughter had grown quiet.  
  
Grace quickly shot him a smile. "Nothing, Daddy."  
  
"Don't lie, Grace. I always know when you lie."  
  
"I'm not lying," Grace lied, again. She turned to her breakfast to avoid her father's suspicious, disapproving eyes. As much as she loved to please him, she hated to disapoint him more. But Lucius always forgot his daughter's bad points and enhanced her good ones. To him, she was perfect.  
  
"After breakfast, shall we work on your French?" Lucius asked, changing the subject. Grace sighed and nodded. "Now, Gracie," he said patiently, "French is very important. Your grandmother was from France."  
  
"The one I'm named after?" Grace asked, even though she knew the answer.  
  
"Yes, darling, the one you're named after," Lucius answered kindly, though he'd told her that dozens of times. "Don't you want to speak French like her?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy," Grace said dutifully. The truth was, she didn't particualary care for French. At such a young age, she couldn't grasp the language. Lucius understood, and was a patient teacher. But he was eager to instill the language in her. Grace liked to hear her father speak French: his voice was soothing, and it was such a pretty language. As she stumbled through the language, her father spoke it with a flowing perfection that made her struggles worth it, just to hear him.  
  
After breakfast was finished, the kitchen elves cleared away the dishes. Grace always had a kind word for the little creatures, because they, too, were kind to her, spoiling her almost as badly as her father did, in their own way. Nollie would sneak her extra treats after dinner, and Jingle always made sure that Grace's favorite foods were prepared, going against Lucius's orders for dinner. But Lucius would never be upset when he saw how delighted his daughter was at the food. The only elf that didn't spoil Grace was Trixie, who was the only creature in the manor, man or elf, to ever punish her. But her punishments were stern yet gentle, and Grace adored her as she did any other elf.  
  
When Nollie came to clear away the dishes, Grace patted him on the head. "Did you enjoy your breakfast, Miss Grace?" the elf squeaked curtiously.  
  
"Oh, yes. Tell all the elves thank you," Grace said. Nollie bowed and went away to the kitchen, grinning. The elves always gloated proudly to each other after being petted by Miss Grace.  
  
"Come, Gracie," Lucius called. Grace waved to the working elves and took her father's arm. Together, they walked out of the kitchen to the library down the hall. As they went, Lucius spoke lovingly but sternly to his daughter. "Gracie, my sweet, I wish you wouldn't baby the elves. They need to be treated like our servants."  
  
"But, Daddy, they're so nice to me," Grace argued.  
  
"They have to be nice to you, Darling. They're our slaves."  
  
Tears filled Grace's eyes, before she could fight then back. Lucius looked at his daughter's wet eyes and trembling lips and frowned. "I'm sorry, Gracie, I'm sorry."  
  
"I like them, Daddy," Grace whimpered as a tear fell down her face.  
  
"Oh, I know you do, darling," Lucius said quickly and soothing. He stopped walking and knelt down the wipe away his daughter's tear. "You treat them any way you want to. I didn't mean to critisize."  
  
"What is cri-cri-ti..."  
  
Lucius smiled. "I mean, tell you what to do," he amended. "Forgive me?"  
  
Grace nodded, and Lucius picked her up and carried her to the rest of the way to the library. Lucius always gave in to what Grace wanted: all it took was a tear or two for his heart to melt and him to grant her any wish. Grace never faked crying to get what she wanted: she was a sensitive child, and Lucius knew this. He treated her much more gently then he'd ever treated Draco. He didn't think that his daughter would grow up to be a wimp or a cry-baby...she was just a sweet little girl.  
  
They sat at a small rounded table in the middle of the small library. Lucius spead the French book out between them. "Listen carefully, darling," he said, and he began to read. Grace put her head on the desk and listened to her father's soothing voice, speaking in a language she didn't understand, but it sounded so lovely. Finally, he stopped reading and Grace's head snapped up. "What did I just read, Grace?"  
  
Grace tryed to casually lean over to read from the book, but Lucius shut it. "Ah ah ah," he scolded teasingly. "From memory."  
  
"I...I don't know," Grace muttered in shame. Lucius looked disapointed again, and Grace hung her head.  
  
"It's alright, Grace. You're really too young for this, anyway." Grace hated the resigning tone of her father's voice, and she felt a little pang of guilt.   
  
"Sorry, Daddy," she mumbled.  
  
"It's alright, darling," he repeated, wrapping her in a hug. "Oh, I love you, Gracie."  
  
"Love you, Daddy," Grace said, her spirits quickly rising.  
  
Lucius released his little girl and stood up. "I'll put the French away. We can do our history now." Lucius was teaching his daughter about the history of magical people, and they were currantly covering the wizards of the Roman Empire. Grace didn't understand any of it, but Lucius seemed to enjoy trying to teach her.  
  
As he searched for the right book on the shelves, Grace watched her father. She loved her Daddy, more then anything in the world. She may not've had her mother's love, but she certainly had his. At such a young age, she already knew and treasured this. 


	10. Part Ten

A/N: Don't worry, readers, the romance is coming. BTW: who says it's gonna be Lucius who falls in love? (wink wink!)  
  
Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Ten:  
  
Over the next couple of years, Narcissa was away more then ever. To where, Lucius did not know...or particularly care. He thought that Grace had forgotten all about her mother. And, in his opinion, she was best forgotten.  
  
One night, Lucius was lying in his room, reading a book in the light of a single candle. He'd already put Grace down to sleep, and the big manor was silent. But suddenly, there was a loud pop, and Lucius looked over the top of his book to find his wife standing at the foot of his bed. "Narcissa?"  
  
"Good evening, Lucius," she greeted coldly. She turned away from the bed and headed to her wardrobe, opening it and pulling her favorite robes onto the floor.  
  
"What are you doing?" Lucius asked, mildly curious and annoyed at his wife's presence.   
  
"I'm packing some of my things," Narcissa replyed, still coldly, not looking at him. She dug around the wardrobe. "Where the HELL is my suitcase?" She pulled an old, brown suitcase from the bottom of a pile of junk, causing it to spill out onto the floor.  
  
"Where are you off to now?" Lucius asked. "You've been nearly all the way around the world by now."  
  
"Actually, I've been spending the past year in Paris," Narcissa replyed, gathering up her choosen robes and stuffing them into the open suitcase. "I've taken a lover there."  
  
"A lover? Really?"  
  
"Yes. I am leaving you."  
  
"Ah." Lucius had wondered when this would happen. Now she can be out of our hair, for good, Lucius told himself. "Well, have a good life, then."  
  
"I came here to get more then my robes," Narcissa replyed coldly, slamming her suitcase shut. "I came to get my daughter."  
  
Lucius was surprised by this. "Really? What for?"  
  
"I'm taking her to Paris with me. To live."  
  
Lucius lost his cold demeanor then. "The hell you are."  
  
"Whose going to stop me?"  
  
"She's more my daughter then she is yours!"  
  
Narcissa smirked. "My dear husband, don't you know? She's not your daughter."  
  
"Not my-"  
  
"Lucius, you're a fool!" Narcissa exclaimed, still smirking. "You should've figured it out by now! She doesn't look a thing like you."  
  
"But...but..."  
  
Narcissa sighed. "I knew I was pregnant before I came home from Greece. I had sex with you, to make it look like your child, so you'd pay for the abortion. But you, like a fool, wanted to keep the damn child."  
  
"You...you KNEW..."  
  
Narcissa laughed suddenly. "And guess what? Her father's a MUGGLE! Of course, I was shit-faced, or I never would've given him a second glance. But after a few glasses of firewhiskey...well, it just doesn't matter." She cackled again, and Lucius shivered: she was so much like her older sister, Bellatrix. "You've been raising a Mudblood as your own child! A Mudblood with the Malfoy name!"  
  
"Shut up," Lucius muttered.  
  
"Well, you don't have to worry about the little Mudblood anymore. I'm taking her out of your hair."  
  
"The hell you are," Lucius repeated. "She's staying right here, with me."  
  
"You still want her?" Narcissa's eyes suddenly had a wicked glint to them, and Lucius was reminded, somewhat, of the old days. When her eyes had been alive. But it was only artificial now, only greed could do that to her eyes now. "Well, that's just too bad."  
  
"Narcissa, please!" Lucius cried, real panic filling him for the first time. "Please, you can't take her from me! My baby, my Gracie...oh, God!"  
  
Narcissa's smirk deepened. "Whose to stop me? She's my daughter, not yours."  
  
Lucius knew that this was true. Lawfully, Narcissa had every right to take Grace away. But that's not who she belongs with! Lucius thought with a panic. She's MY daugher, MINE! "Please, Narcissa. I'll give you anything."  
  
Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "Half."  
  
"Half...of EVERYTHING?"  
  
Narcissa snorted in contempt. "I have no interest in your mother's furniture," she said in disgust, glaring at the dark oak that decorated the large room. "No, I mean, half of the money."  
  
Half of the money. Lucius tried to remember how much he had in his account. Fourteen million? He figured that he and Grace could live off of seven million galleons, easily. "Alright," he said slowly. "You have a deal."  
  
"What?" Narcissa looked surprised. "You mean, you'd give up eight million galleons for some Mudblood basturd brat?"  
  
Guess I have more then I thought, Lucius thought, but he was angered by Narcissa remarks. "Don't CALL her that," he snapped. "Yes, I'll give you the blasted money."  
  
"Not all at once: you know I'd just spend it." She laughed again. "Of course, my lover has plenty of money. But I'll write about monthly installments." She picked up her suitcase. "Enjoy your Mudblood brat."  
  
"You BITCH!" But before Lucius could even think of hexing her, Narcissa winked and Apparated out of the room. Lucius sighed and sat down on the bed.  
  
So, Narcissa had left him. With half of his fortune. This didn't bother him one bit.  
  
Grace wasn't his. Now THAT bothered him. Her father was some Greek Muggle that Narcissa had shagged when she was drunk. Lucius sighed and blew out his single candle. He couldn't even think of reading now.  
  
But sleep was out of the question. He lay awake for hours, listening to the storm rage outside. Flashes of lightning lit the room up every few seconds, and the booms of thunder were so loud that Lucius didn't hear the tapping at first. But when he did, he sat up and looked to the doors. Someone was knocking.  
  
Lucius got out of bed and opened the bedroom doors. Standing out in the dark hall, clad in silk pajamas and fuzzy house slippers, was Grace. Lucius smiled down at his seven-year-old daughter. "My darling, what are you doing up?"   
  
"I heard noises," Grace whispered loudly. "The storm..." There was another boom of thunder, and Grace sprang forward and clung to her father's legs.  
  
"Alright, Gracie, alright. Come along..." Lucius picked up his frightened daughter and carried her to bed with him. He lay her down with her head on the pillow and tucked the linen sheets around her, then climbed in beside her. He put a protective arm around her small body and closed his eyes.  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
"Go to sleep, Gracie," he murmured into her hair. But the little girl was persistant.  
  
"Daddy? Can I ask you a question?"  
  
Lucius sighed and lifted his head up. "One question, then you'll go to sleep."  
  
"Yes, Daddy," Grace agreed. She sighed a little. "Was Mother here?"  
  
Lucius felt his blood run cold. Had Grace heard what they'd said? How much had she heard? "Yes, darling," he answered carefully. "How did you know that?"  
  
"I heard you fighting."  
  
"No, darling, we didn't fight," Lucius said quickly. "We were just discussing something. Mother had to go away for awhile."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"I don't know, darling," Lucius lied. "That was more then one question, Gracie. Go to sleep."  
  
"One more?"  
  
Lucius sighed. "Yes, Gracie. What is it?"  
  
"Does Mother love me?"  
  
Grace had turned her head to face her father, and Lucius looked down at her face, incredulous at what he'd just heard. How could she even suspect...Lucius looked into her daughter's eyes, and he couldn't believe that, just a short time ago, he'd seen identical eyes filled with madness. What could he tell her? She knew the truth. "Well, darling..."  
  
"She DOESN'T."  
  
"Grace! Don't say such things!" Lucius sighed and kissed his daughter's forehead. "Listen to me, darling, and listen carefully. You don't need anyone but me. I love you, and you don't need Mother anymore. Alright?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy. I love you, too."  
  
Lucius kissed his daughter again. "Now, go to sleep." As they lay in the dark, Lucius buried his face in his sleeping daughter's dark curls.   
  
Of course, she belonged to him. No wicked witch or Greek muggle or ANYONE would ever change that, would ever take his little girl away. 


	11. Part Eleven

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Eleven:  
  
By the time Grace turned ten, she'd begun to grow into a lovely young woman. And though Lucius was proud of his beautiful daughter, he was also scared. She was getting older, and in a year...she'd be going to school.   
  
Lucius was determined to enjoy the last year with his little girl. And at first, things were as they'd always been.  
  
Until one morning.  
  
Lucius sat at the end of the table, waiting for Grace to arrive for breakfast. As usual, she always came in after he'd sat down. But he never minded waiting for his little girl. When she finally came in, she was wearing a new dress of green satin. "Good morning, beautiful," Lucius greeted her, as he always did.  
  
"Good morning," she said, not as cheerfully as usual. She kissed his cheek before sitting down.   
  
"Darling, what's the matter?"  
  
Grace shook her head. "Nothing," she murmured with a little sigh.  
  
"Gracie, tell Daddy what's wrong." But Grace only shook her head, her black curls flouncing.  
  
"I can't," she muttered.  
  
"Gracie, you must. Please."  
  
Grace sighed and looked at her father, her blue eyes wide. She appeared...nervous? She isn't afraid of me, is she? Lucius wondered franticly. No, no, I've always been so good to her. Please...  
  
But Grace finally spoke. And what she said nearly knocked Lucius from his chair. "What do you know about...my real father?"  
  
Lucius gaped at her for a moment, hardly believing his ears. Her REAL father? How... "Gracie, have you been speaking to your mother?"  
  
"No, Daddy!" she insisted quickly. "You know I haven't spoken to Mother in ages!"  
  
"Then...HOW?"  
  
Grace gave him a small, sad smile. "How long did you think you could keep it from me? I mean, look at us. It's too obvious."  
  
"Grace..."  
  
"What do you know about him?" she asked quickly, as if trying to get it out before she lost her nerve.  
  
"Grace, you listen to me," Lucius said sternly. "You are to forget all about this. You're real father doesn't matter."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Whose raised you all your life? Whose always been there for you?"  
  
Grace sighed and looked at her lap again. "You, Daddy."  
  
"Then why does this...PERSON matter? I'm all you need, Grace."  
  
"I just want to know who I am."  
  
"Darling!" Lucius exclaimed. "You are Lenore Grace Malfoy, my daughter. What more do you need to know?"  
  
"WHAT am I? Italian, or Greek, or-"  
  
"I don't know," Lucius snapped, so harshly that Grace flinched and looked away. Lucius felt guilty, and he put a hand over her's. "Darling, please. For the both of us, just forget all about this. I am your real father, alright? That's all you need to know."  
  
"Yes, Daddy," Grace said in defeat. "I'll forget all about it."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy."  
  
"That's my girl," Lucius said, satisfied. He leaned over and kissed his daughter on the forehead, and she gave him a little smile.  
  
The rest of the day went by normally, and Grace was back in her normal, high spirits as she practiced her French and piano. Grace is not only beautiful, but talented, Lucius thought proudly as he listened to her play in the drawing room. At least I can be credited for SOMETHING.  
  
In the afternoon, Lucius sent Grace up to her room for a nap. Though she was becoming a young woman, he still believed that she needed to rest in the afternoon. He didn't particularly know or care what she did during this time, as long as she stayed in her room and was quiet. While Grace was napping, Lucius read the newspaper in his study. He got so absorbed in it that he didn't even notice how late it became: five o'clock, and Grace still hadn't come downstairs! Lucius rose from his favorite chair to go upstairs: perhaps she actually fell asleep today, he thought with a smile.  
  
Lucius opened the door to Grace's room (no longer called a 'nursary', as she was ten years old now), and found it dark. Lucius went over to the bed, but when he got close, he gasped.  
  
It was empty.  
  
It didn't even look like anyone had been sleeping in it. The house elves always made it back up after Grace woke up, and it was still made up. Maybe she's in her bathroom, Lucius thought, becoming worried. He knocked on the door. "Grace? Darling?" No reply, and Lucius pushed the door open.  
  
The bathroom was dark and empty.  
  
Lucius was becoming frantic now. "Grace? Grace! Gracie, where are you, darling?" He headed out of the room and into the hall. Maybe she went into another room? he thought desperatly. He searched every room in the hall, even Draco's, which hadn't been entered since his death nine years before. He knew that Grace couldn't possibly be in there, but still...  
  
When he still didn't find her, he was now in a panic. "Trixie! Get up here!" The elf, who'd been Grace's nurse elf for years, was there quickly.  
  
"Master, what is you needing?"  
  
"Where is Miss Grace?" he asked, not bothering to lower his voice. He knew he should calm down and be rational, but...his little girl was missing!  
  
"Trixie is not knowing, Master," and for the first time in her life, Lucius saw fear in the elf's eyes. Not of his rage, but for Grace's concern.  
  
"Oh, GODS! Where is she!" he cried loudly.  
  
"Master must calm himself!" Trixie cried, slightly annoyed. "Maybe Miss Grace is hiding..."  
  
"She's NEVER hidden from me before!" Lucius cried. "And she's grown out of those little games! Oh, Gracie, where ARE you?"  
  
Trixie went past Lucius and into Grace's room. Lucius followed her as she looked around, and she stopped in front of Grace's desk. On the desk sat a few books...and a note. Trixie held it out for Lucius, who hastily snatched it from the elf's hand and read:  
  
DEAR DADDY,  
  
I DON'T MEAN TO SCARE YOU LIKE THIS, BUT I MUST FIND MY REAL FATHER.  
  
YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. BUT DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME: I HAVE MONEY, AND I'M  
  
TAKING JINGLE WITH ME. SHE'LL LOOK AFTER ME. I'LL WRITE SOON. I LOVE   
  
YOU.  
  
-GRACE  
  
Lucius stared at the letter, reading it over and over again. "You don't understand"...that would haunt him forever. With a cry of frustration and sorrow, Lucius tore the letter up and flung it to the floor, and threw himself down on Grace's bed to cry into her pillows. He felt Trixie's furry hand on his back.   
  
"Is Trixie to get anything for Master?"  
  
Lucius raised his head, his eyes bloodshot. "You can leave me, you beast. This is you're fault!"  
  
"Master, I is not letting Grace leave!"  
  
"You should've been watching her! YOU'RE her nurse! You're lucky I don't present you with clothes! Now leave me be!" He watched Trixie stomped out of the room, spitefully slamming the door behind her. Lucius buried his head in the pillows again.  
  
"Gracie, Gracie," he murmured sadly. "My little baby, why did you leave me?" And he lay there, for a very long time.  
  
  
  
The next day, Lucius got a letter by owl post. But it wasn't from Grace: it was from Narcissa. Narcissa never sent him anything, though he sent her some part of her fortune every month. The return address for the letter was from Naples, Italy: she'd apparently left her Paris lover and taken one eleswhere, Lucius supposed.  
  
He ripped open the envelope and read:  
  
LUCIUS-  
  
WELL, YOU WOUDLN'T BELIEVE MY SHOCK LAST NIGHT WHEN ONE OF MY HOUSE   
  
ELVES BROUGHT IN A LITTLE GIRL TO SEE ME. THAT GIRL WAS OUR DAUGHTER,  
  
COMING ALL THE WAY TO ITALY WITH ONLY AN INCOMPITANT HOUSE ELF TO   
  
ACCOMPANY HER! SO MUCH FOR TAKING GOOD CARE OF HER, EH?  
  
ANYWAY, SHE ASKS ME ABOUT HER REAL FATHER. YOU NEVER TOLD HER, DID YOU?  
  
I HAD THE PLEASURE OF SHOCKING HER WITH THE TRUTH: A MUGGLE IN GREECE!  
  
MY, CAN HER EYES GET BIG. NAIVE LITTLE MUDBLOOD SHE IS. ANYWAY, I   
  
KINDLY LET HER STAY THE NIGHT AND GAVE HER SOME MONEY. YOU MAY REPAY  
  
ME THE THIRTY GALLEONS IN MY NEXT PAY NOTE NEXT MONTH. SHE'S QUITE   
  
EAGER TO MEET HER REAL FATHER. I GUESS YOU JUST WEREN'T GOOD ENOUGH  
  
FOR HER.  
  
-NARCISSA.  
  
Spiteful bitch, Lucius thought, ripping up the note as he had Grace's. But he felt a little comforted: Grace was alright, at least for now. And she had some money. Lucius was tempted to go to Naples and find her, but who knew where she was now? Knowing his daughter, he knew that she'd probably left early this morning. And frankly, he couldn't blame her: Narcissa was quite unbarable.  
  
  
  
The next two days were torture for Lucius. He didn't recieve any more letters, from Grace or otherwise. Why couldn't she have taken Trixie with her? Trixie was able to write home, at least, and could take better care of her then Jingle could. Then again, Lucius thought, Trixie would've never agreed to go with her, and Jingle must've been easier to trick.  
  
Lucius spent those two days in his study, staying awake nearly 24-hours a day. Just sitting in his favorite chair. He only ate once, when Trixie threatened to force-fed him. There were just some lines that she had to draw, but he could tell that she felt guilty about letting him sit around for two days. I guess she must understand my grief, he thought gratefully as he stared at the opposite wall.  
  
On Thursday, three days after Grace had left, Lucius was sitting in the study, as usual. It was late evening, and the sun had just set. Suddenly, he heard the sound of the front door opening.  
  
And yet, he didn't move. He waited for Grace to come to him.  
  
He could hear an unfamiliar squeak that sounded like Draco's old tennis shoes, that he'd worn before he started at Hogwarts. So many years ago, Lucius thought. Usually, Grace wore fancy slippers to match her dresses, and he could always hear them tapping as she walked on the wooden floors. I guess she didn't want to travel in her dresses and slippers, Lucius thought.  
  
The squeaking grew louder, until Lucius could tell that it was right outside the study door. The back of his chair was to it, and Lucius still didn't turn around. "Daddy?" he heard a soft, timid voice call.  
  
"Come in, darling," Lucius said, as calmly as he could. He fought the urge to jump up and wrap Grace in a hug. She came around to the front of the chair, and stood before him, her head hanging. She wore some of Draco's old clothing. I guess that she was in his room, after all, Lucius thought. "You're home," he said softly, after a long silence.  
  
Grace nodded.  
  
"I was very worried, Gracie."  
  
"I'm sorry, Daddy," she whispered, and he could see tears in her eyes. He softened.  
  
"Come sit on my lap, darling," Lucius said kindly. Grace looked up at him, and then came and sat on his lap, just as she had many times before. Lucius wrapped his arms around her. "I missed you," he whispered, kissed her head.  
  
"I missed you, too, Daddy."  
  
"Why did you go, then?"  
  
Grace turned around and looked at him. "I HAD to, Daddy. I...just had to know."  
  
"Know what, darling?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Grace admitted. "I was just...curious."  
  
"Did you meet him, then? What was he like?" Because, in spite of himself, Lucius was curious, too.  
  
But Grace shook her head. "I didn't meet him."  
  
"You couldn't find him?"  
  
"I did," Grace said softly. "Find him, I mean. But I didn't meet him."  
  
"He isn't...dead, is he?"  
  
"No," Grace said quickly. "He's alive, I saw him. He lives in a small house in Athens. No, he's not dead."  
  
"You saw him, and know where he lives, and yet you didn't meet him?" Lucius was now more curious then ever. "My dear, why?"  
  
"I...was scared," Grace began. "I arrived at his house last night, and I was scared. So, I decided to just peek in the window, to see what he was like, you know?"  
  
"Go on."  
  
"Well, I saw him," Grace said slowly. "And...his family. He has a wife, a big lady. Greek, of course. And...kids, too. I have half brothers and sisters." Grace sighed. "And they looked so happy. I couldn't ruin it, and bust in on them. They had a kid that was OLDER then me. They were already married when Mother got pregnant! I couldn't just...I couldn't..."  
  
"It's alright, darling," Lucius said soothingly, pulling his daughter closer. "It's alright."  
  
"I worried you for nothing," Grace said sadly. "I'm sorry, Daddy."  
  
"Hush," Lucius said softly, kissing his daughter's head again. "I forgive you, darling. Are you satisfied, now?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh, Gracie," Lucius sighed. "You're going to grow up. You already are. And you're gonna break my heart."  
  
Grace looked horrified. "No, Daddy! I won't do that!"  
  
Lucius smiled. "It's already, Gracie. It happens. I'm just not sure I'm ready for you to grow up."  
  
"I wouldn't, Daddy!" Grace insisted. "I promise, I won't!"  
  
"I know, sweetheart," Lucius sighed. "I know that you won't hurt me." And Lucius held his daughter close, and he wasn't sure how he'd be able to let her go. 


	12. Part Twelve

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Twelve:  
  
Grace looked around the crowded alleyway, her eyes wide with wonder. She'd never been anywhere with so many people before, except when she was in Athens and Naples. But she'd been on a mission then, and had barely noticed the crowds.  
  
Now, she was in Diagon Alley for the first time, and she was torn between fear and excitment. She wanted to run into all of the shops and look at everything. She save a crowd of children around her age gathering around the window of a Quidditch supply store, and she went to join them when she felt a tug on her arm. Her father wasn't eager to let her out of his sight.  
  
"Come, Grace. We have things to take care of."  
  
"But, Daddy, I want to see!"  
  
"Later, Grace," Lucius said, tugging her along gently. "Come on."  
  
Grace sighed, gave the crowd of children one last, fleeting glimpse, and followed her father to the book store. There, they bought the books on the list she'd recieved from Hogwarts. Grace was excited to carry her own school books, excited that she was going off to school at last, but her happy mood was a little dented. Her father wore a tight-lipped look on his face all day, one that Grace only saw whenever he sent the Grigotts notes to her mother every month.   
  
"After we've gotten your robes, we will stop for something to eat," Lucius said, his voice business-like and cold.  
  
"Yes, Daddy," Grace muttered obediantly. The charm of the alley was lost on her as she worried about what her father must be thinking. Did I do something wrong? she wondered. Why does he look so angry? Why isn't he SAYING anything? She cleared her throat and tried to speak to him. "Daddy?"  
  
"Not now, Grace," Lucius mumbled, distracted as he examined her supply list for the millionth time. He hadn't even bothered to add a loving sentiment to soften his words. Grace fought back tears. Don't be such a baby, she told herself. He's probably just tired or something.  
  
Grace got fitted with her school robes, and was eager to model them for her father. But when she came out of the fitting room, and witch at the front desk gave her his message. "He said he'd meet you at Three Broomsticks when you're finished," she said, and Grace had to work extra hard to fight back tears as her robes were packed up. As she stepped out onto the crowded alley, she was surprised that her father had left her alone, even if Three Broomsticks was just three shops down.  
  
She found him at a table in the back, and she set down her parcels and sat down. "Did the fitting go alright?" he asked, but he didn't sound as though he cared much.  
  
"I wanted to show you my robes, but you left," Grace said, trying to keep any whining out of her voice.  
  
"You can show them to me some other time," Lucius said carelessly. "Now, I've already ordered for you. Is..." But Grace had blocked him out. Don't cry, don't cry, DO NOT CRY, she told herself as she stared into her lap.  
  
"Gracie?" For the first time that day, Lucius sounded gentle. "My darling, what's the matter?"  
  
"I...I'm just excited about school, that's all," Grace lied quickly, ashamed that he'd seen the tears she couldn't hold back.  
  
"Oh." And Lucius became cold and silent again.  
  
This behavior continued for the last two weeks of summer. Lucius stayed shut up in his bedroom most of the time, and Grace was left to her own devices...with the house elves to help her, of course. When Grace tried to ask Trixie what was wrong with her father, Trixie snap, "Miss Grace is being nosey again. You must stop that!"  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled apologenicly, feeling ashamed all over again. Grace had gone from doing no wrong to doing EVERYTHING wrong. What was going on?  
  
The night before Grace was to leave for school, Lucius set up an eleborate meal for her, with all of her favorites. Grace was too nervous about the next day to eat much, but she gave it an effort. She knew that the poor house elves had been slaving away all day.  
  
But during the meal, Lucius was still silent. Finally, Grace couldn't take it anymore. She blurted out, "Daddy, what's wrong with you?"  
  
Lucius's head snapped up, for he'd been staring at his uneatten plate, and looked at his daughter, wide-eyed with surprise. "Darling, what do you mean?"  
  
"These past few weeks, you've been so...cold to me," Grace said, for lack of a better word. She'd wanted to say "mean", but he technically hadn't been.  
  
"Oh, my dear," Lucius sighed, putting a hand over his daughter's. "I'm sorry, Gracie. I hadn't even realized. I've been so selfish."  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Lucius smiled, but Grace could tell that it wasn't a happy smile. "I'm just...scared. You're growing up so quickly, and tomorrow...you're leaving."  
  
"It's just for school," Grace said quickly. "I'll be back for the winter and summer holidays, and-"  
  
"I know, my darling, I know," Lucius said quickly. "But...things will never be the same again."  
  
"Daddy..."  
  
"You'll never be a little girl again," Lucius sighed sadly. "You're going to grow up and get married and forget me-"  
  
"I told you, I never would!" Grace cried, remembering that night months ago when she'd run away from home. "Please, Daddy, don't talk like this! I'm only going to school, and I'll always come back!"  
  
Lucius sighed sadly. "Oh, my," he sighed. "I've been such an old fool, haven't I?"  
  
"Yes," Grace teased. "But I still love you."  
  
"I was never this bothered when Draco went to school," Lucius said thoughtfully, almost to himself. "I guess it was because he wasn't all I had...you ARE all I have, Gracie."  
  
"I know, Daddy."  
  
Lucius smiled again. "I shouldn't be troubling you like this on the night before school. Don't you worry about the ramblings of an old man, my dear, and eat your dinner."  
  
But Grace WAS bothered by the "ramblings". She barely slept that night when she thought about their dinner conversation. He thinks I'm going to forget him, Grace thought as she tossed and turned. How ridiculous! He's my daddy, I love him. Why would he think I'd hurt him, just because Draco died and Mother left. I'm not like them, she told herself firmly. I'm going to stay by Daddy. He can count on me, always.  
  
But the next morning, Grace forgot about the night before as reality sunk in: she was going to school! She'd never traveled alone before, and never so far away. All that morning, she had knots in her stomach, and couldn't eat when her father offered her breakfast...not that he was eatting himself.  
  
They went to the train station just before nine, and Lucius had to say a quick goodbye to Grace before the train left. He knelt down to her height and hugged her close. "I'm going to miss you so much, Gracie."  
  
"I'll miss you, too, Daddy."  
  
"I'll write to you every week. You must do the same."  
  
"I promise."  
  
"Don't work too hard, but don't slack off. And don't-"  
  
"I KNOW Daddy," Grace said. "Don't worry so much."  
  
Lucius hugged his daughter again. "I love you, Grace."  
  
"Love you, Daddy."  
  
The train whistled, and Grace picked up her trunk the best she could. "Go!" Lucius cried, smiling. "And good luck."  
  
"'Bye, Daddy." And with that, Grace boarded the train.  
  
She found an empty compartment in the back, and hoisted her trunk onto the rack above the seats. She looked out the window to the platform, where she saw her father standing away from the crowd. She waved vigorously to him, and he gave her a small smile and wave. When the train began moving, Grace stared out of the window until the light blond head of her father disappeared into the distance. Then she sat back in her seat and closed her eyes.  
  
"Uh...is there room in here?"  
  
Grace was interuppted from her train of thought as a voice called to her from the doorway. She opened her eyes to see a tall boy, with freckles on light skin, light red hair, and blue eyes. He appeared to be a first year, like her. "I mean," he continued shyly, "you seem to be the only one in here, so I thought-"  
  
"Yeah, sure, sit," Grace said quickly, nervous. After all, she'd never been around other kids before. Her playmates of childhood had been house elves.  
  
The boy put his trunk on the rack and sat opposite Grace. He appeared nervous, too, but he held out his hand to shake. "My name's Micheal Weasley."  
  
"Is that short for 'Mike' or 'Mickey', or-"  
  
Micheal snorted. "No, just Micheal."  
  
Grace smiled, for she thought those nicknames were obnoxious. "Alright, Just Micheal," she said teasingly. "I'm Grace Malfoy."  
  
"Malfoy?" Micheal asked, but he shook her hand and said nothing more of her surname.   
  
After a few minutes more of silence, Micheal stood up and reached into his trunk. He pulled out a chess board and two sets of chess pieces. "Wizard's Chess?" he offered.  
  
"Alright." Grace had been playing that game with her father since she was young. She slid down to the floor and Micheal set up the board and pieces between them, and Grace reliezed that she'd left her set at home. Damn! she thought. I'll write Daddy for them.  
  
As they played Wizard's Chess (Micheal stomping on Grace because he was more familiar with his pieces), they got into the conversation of what house they'd be in.  
  
"Well, I'll probably be in Gryfindor," Micheal said confidently. "The whole side of my dad's family was in it. 'Course, I don't know about my mum, 'cause she went to Beaubaxtons. What house do you think you'll be in?"  
  
Grace hadn't really thought about it, and frankly, she hadn't really wanted to. Her father and mother had both been in Slytherin...then again, her father wasn't REALLY her father, and she wasn't a pure blood, so...  
  
"I mean, I know that Malfoys usually get into Slytherin," Micheal said. "But..."  
  
"But what?" Grace snapped irritably.  
  
"Nothing, nothing. I just mean...you never know, right? I could end up in Hufflepuff!" Micheal laughed as he ordered his chess piece to move. "Check."  
  
"Damn," Grace muttered. She started at the board, not wanting to think about the school houses anymore. She probably WOULDN'T get into Slytherin...what would Daddy say? she wondered. What if I get into Hufflepuff...or worse, Gryfindor? Grace just hoped that she would get into the only acceptable house: Ravenclaw. Yes, she thought. Daddy would be pleased if I got into that house.  
  
"Mate," Micheal said. "You're not very good at this, are you?"  
  
"I am with my own pieces," Grace snapped. "But I've forgotten them at home."  
  
"Right, right," Micheal said with friendly sarcasm.  
  
The rest of the train ride was fairly pleasant, in spite of Grace's lingering fear about the Sorting. She and Micheal indulged in sweets after the witch with the cart came around, and Grace ate more candy then her father would've ever let her eat at one time. She and Micheal traded Chocolate Frog cards: she was just starting a collection, and his was quite large. After stuffing themselves to contentment, they played a game of Cobblestones, which Grace was better at after years of practice with the house elves.  
  
But when the announcment came that they be at Hogwarts in five minutes, Grace grew nervous and silent. Micheal tried to ask her what was wrong, and she just smiled (the same smile she used on her father) and said, "Nerves."  
  
"Don't be nervous," Micheal said as he put his trunk on the floor. "The Sorting Hat will put you in a good house."  
  
They got off the train, and Grace could hear someone call out, "Firs' years! Firs' years, over 'ere!" Grace and Micheal made their way through the crowds of students and to the giant, grizzled man holding up a lantern. The giant looked down at Micheal and said, "Well, nice to 'ave a Weasley back 'ere."  
  
"Hi, Hagrid," Micheal said, and Grace wondered how Micheal already knew this huge, scary man.  
  
When all the first years had gathered, they all got into little boats that took them to the other side of the lake. Grace and Micheal shared one, and Grace was so nervous that she was close to trembling. Micheal tried to comfort her with akward words, but he didn't seem sure of what to say.  
  
They went up the stairs to the castle, and waited for the Sorting to begin. Grace was so nervous that she barely took notice to the ghosts that flew overhead. Besides, it wasn't like Malfoy Manor didn't have ghosts.  
  
Finally, a tall woman with square glasses and a stern face came in to get them. "I am Professor McGonagall," she said, addressing the nervous first years. "I will be your Transfiguration professor. We will now go into the Sorting. Follow me." And they did.  
  
Grace looked around at the Great Hall. Students were sitting at one of four huge tables, and there were floating candles all around, lighting up the huge room. Grace felt a strange pain in her heart, a longing for the smaller, familiar dining hall at home, but she fought it back as they neared the head table. There sat the teachers and the headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore. He isn't dead yet? Grace thought curiously, remembering things her father had said about him.  
  
The first years lined up, the Sorting Hat was brought out. After it sang it's song (Grace hadn't heard a word of it), the Sorting was began with "Anderson, Meleah" put into Hufflepuff.  
  
On down through the B's, D's, G's, and L's. And finally...  
  
"Malfoy, Lenore!"  
  
It took Grace a moment to remember that her name was Lenore, and she stepped up to the hat. The whole hall seemed to have grown strangly silent, or was she imagining it? She sat on the stool and put the hat on.  
  
"Hmmm..." the hat said. "I see Slytherin blood in you. How strange that it's mixed with Muggle blood."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Don't take it personal, my dear," the hat said. "Let's see...you're quite unique, and talented. Smart, too."  
  
"Ur...thanks."  
  
"There's only one house that can properly enhance those talents," the hat said. "And I have a feeling that this is the one you wanted. RAVENCLAW!"  
  
Instead of cheers from the Ravenclaw table, like Grace was expecting (every table cheered enthusiasticly for a newcomer), there were murmurs around the whole Hall that Grace knew she WASN'T imagining. What's going on? she wondered. She stood there, frozen stiff.  
  
She felt someone prode her back, gently. She turned to see Professor McGonagall, her harsh old face softened. "Go on, Ravenclaw is waiting."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Go on."   
  
Grace walked down to the Ravenclaw table, feeling all eyes in the hall on her. She turned as she walked, and her eyes met Micheal's, who was still waiting to be sorted. He gave her an enthusiastic smile, and she felt somewhat comforted as she took her place at the Ravenclaw table.  
  
And, in spite of the reaction of all the students, they welcomed her with open arms. Grace was in her new home, now. 


	13. Part Thirteen

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Thirteen:  
  
Over the next few months, Lucius was irritable, and the kindness he'd shown to the house elves for the past few years, by Grace's influence, was gone. He spent his days storming around the manor, or sitting in his study, reading. The only elf that dared to near him was Trixie, and he ususally snapped at her and sent her away.  
  
Finally, Trixie seemed to grow tired to Lucius's attitude. One morning after breakfast, Lucius sat in his study, rereading the letter Grace had just sent him for the hundreth time. He was happy to hear that she was doing alright, that classes were good and she had friends at school, but he was missing her very badly. And, at nine o'clock in the morning, he was already fairly drunk. Not that time mattered: he was barely sleeping.  
  
Trixie went into the study and found Lucius sitting in his armchair, the letter in one hand and a half-empty bottle of vodka in the other. Lucius glanced at the letter again and look a swig of his bottle, just as he spotted the elf out of the corner of his eye. He slammed the bottle on the table impatiently. "What do you want?" he demanded, turning to face her. His eyes were bloodshot and glazed, his face unshaven, his hair a blonde mess. The other house elves were terrified of Lucius in his normal state, and they dared not approach him now. Then again, Trixie didn't seem to be afraid of anything...except the ghosts in the attic.  
  
"Master is drinking too much," Trixie said gently. "Give the bottle to Trixie-"  
  
"No!" Lucius cried, snatching it from the table before Trixie could get her furry hand around it. "Leave me be, you damned elf."  
  
"Master, you is being ridiculous!" Trixie thundered, causing Lucius's eyes to go wide in surprise. "Look at you! If Miss Grace was here-"  
  
"Don't say her name," Lucius said bitterly, taking another small drink of vodka. "For the love of Merlin, don't."  
  
"You is not the only one missing Miss Grace!" Trixie yelled, her bug-eyes wide with anger. "We house elves is missing her, too! Nollie was just crying about her."  
  
"I don't care!" Lucius screamed, slamming his bottle of vodka so violently on the table that some of the contents spilled out. "None of you have the right to miss her and grieve. She is MINE! None of you know...none of you understand..." And Lucius crumbled into tears, clutching the letter in one hand and holding his face in another, sobbing patheticly.  
  
Trixie went to him and rubbed his back soothing. "There, there, Master," she whispered. "Trixie is sorry she makes you cry."  
  
"I...I need her back," Lucius choked out. "She's all I have, my life is nothing without her."  
  
"Miss Grace is wanting Master to be strong," Trixie said soothingly. "There, there. Miss Grace is to be home at holidays."  
  
"It isn't enough!" Lucius sobbed.  
  
"Miss Grace isn't wanting her Daddy to cry," Trixie said in a confident tone. "Miss Grace is wanting her Daddy to be happy."   
  
Lucius took his hand from his face. "Yes," he said slowly. "She wouldn't want me to cry." His voice was almost mechanical.  
  
"That's right," Trixie said gently. "Now, come on. Let Trixie put Master to bed."  
  
Lucius let Trixie help him to his feet, but he wouldn't let go of the letter, clutched tightly in his iron fist. Trixie led him up to his bedroom, helped him into bed, and took off his boots. As she walked out, Lucius finally fell asleep, still holding the letter in his hands.  
  
After that incident, Lucius went about his days as normally as he could, trying to fill the empty hours. He kept himself well-groomed, and only drank his usual glass of wine at dinner. But he wondered what the point was, for all he seemed to be living for was the letter that came by owl post once a week...  
  
The weeks stretched by slowly, as fall turned to winter, and the first snowfall came. To Lucius, it only meant one thing: Christmas was coming, and Grace would be home.  
  
Since Grace was born, Lucius had put an extra effort into Christmas. Draco had never experienced a great holiday, with tons of decorations and a huge tree and piles of presents in pretty packages. Of course, he'd always gotten presents, but rarely ever wrapped. When Grace was too young to appreciate it, Lucius began a new tradition of presents in shiny paper, decorations in every room on the first floor, and a huge tree in the drawing room.   
  
This year, Lucius went all out. He knew that his house would look horribly tacky, but Grace always loved Christmas. And if billons of fairy lights and a huge tree in every room and holly in the hallways and bows adorning all the pictures, then so be it. Lucius was determined to make this holiday perfect for his little girl.  
  
He went on a shopping spree at Diagon Alley, buying her pounds of candy, toys, things for school, anything she could possibly went. He came short of buying her a broom, but he didn't want her to start flying and hurt herself.  
  
The day that Lucius went to the train station to pick Grace up, he was very excited. But he kept it in check with a cool face, as he waited with the other parents. He could feel people looking at him, and he knew what they were thinking: that he was one of Voldemort's supporters that had managed to slip through the cracks. The basturd, they probably thought. Lucius was angered, but he found it back. Grace was coming home, she was coming home.  
  
The train pulled up, and the children got off, dragging their trunks and bags. Lucius scanned the crowd as cooly as he could for olive skin and dark, wild hair. Finally, he spotted her...was she talking to that red-haired boy? No, she was coming right this way, dragging her trunk.  
  
Lucius went over to her, and Grace stopped dragging her trunk. They looked at each other for a moment, and Grace smiled. "Hi, Daddy," she said softly.   
  
"Hello, Gracie," Lucius said, and he wrapped her in a tight hug and kissed her curls. "Gods, I've missed you, darling."  
  
"I've missed you, too."  
  
"Well, you're coming home, now," Lucius said. "At least for the holiday, that is." He picked up her trunk with ease, and they left the train station.  
  
When they arrived at the manor, the house elves all seemed to be waiting for her. As soon as she walked in the door, they all bum-rushed her, nearly knocking her to the floor as they struggled past each other to hug her legs and kiss her hands. Grace laughed at them all, kneeling down to hug them all.  
  
"I hope you haven't all just been waiting there," Lucius said coldly to the elves. "Miss Grace is hungry, her dinner ought to be ready."  
  
"It is, Master!" one of the kitchen elves squeaked, and they all rushed out as quicky as they came in to set the meal out. Grace laughed and got to her feet.  
  
"Have they been impossible, Daddy?" Grace asked affectionatly, watching the last of the elves bow and leave them.  
  
"No more then usual," Lucius said. "They've missed you, almost as much as I have."  
  
Grace sighed. "They are little darlings, aren't they?"  
  
"Whatever you say, my dear," and Grace giggled. Lucius offered his arm to her. "They may have our meal prepared if we go in." Grace took his arm and they went to the dining hall together. Lucius saw Grace's eyes light up at the sight of the Christmas decorations, and he felt fantastic. His little baby was finally home...for a short while, at least. 


	14. Part Fourteen

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Fourteen:  
  
Grace was happy at school. She enjoyed most of her classes (except Potions with the sneering Professor Snape, but who really enjoyed that?), and had plenty of friends. She was close to the three girls that she shared a dormitory with, but her closest friend, from the first day, was Micheal Weasley. As he predicted, he'd been placed in Gryfindor. Since they were in different houses, Grace and Micheal met in the back of the library on evenings to play quiet games of Wizard's Chess and avoid the ever-watchful, disapproving eyes of Madam Pince, the strict librarian.  
  
But sometimes, Grace would notice something: as she walked down the hall, some kids would look at her curiously. And the Slytherins weren't very nice to her...not that they were nice to anyone but their own. But they seemed to go out of their way to pick on her. She bore it well, raising her head and squaring her shoulders. But she secretly wondered what problem they had with her.  
  
Her fellow Ravenclaws didn't act strangly around her, but she sometimes got a feeling that, when she walked into a room, eyes would be on her. I must be paranoid, she would think as she sat with her inviting friends. But the suspcion never left her.  
  
One evening, Grace was getting her chess pieces from her dormitory to take to the library and play with Micheal. Since she'd retrieved her own pieces again, she'd been good competition for her previously cocky opponent. Their games were fairly evenly matched, and in the past year, Grace had even been beating him more often. She'd played the game a lot with her father over the last summer holiday, and was practically an expert.  
  
As Grace headed down the stairs, she could hear the voices of her fellow Ravenclaws in the commonroom. She thought she heard the voice of her best girl friend, fellow second year Trista Vertelli, by the stairwell, and Grace decided to stop by and say hello before heading to the library.  
  
But what she heard made her stop and listen.   
  
"You shouldn't say such things about her!" Trista was protesting. "She's so sweet, you just have to get to know her."  
  
"Oh, she SEEMS sweet enough, on the outside," the voice of a third year, Winny Barthrow, cut in. "That's just part of the family charm."  
  
"They can always sweet-talk the people they want to use," another third year whom Grace didn't know said.   
  
"Don't say that!" Trista protested again. "She hasn't a wicked bone in her whole body!"  
  
Grace heard Winny snort. "Please, Trista. Everyone knows the truth. She practically the spawn of the devil himself."  
  
Grace felt her blood boil with rage. She burst out of the stairwall and stood before the shocked group of girls. "Actually, he's more of a surragate father to me," she said as cooly as she could manage.  
  
The group stared at her in shocked silence. Then Trista stood up. "Grace, we weren't talking about you, of course not!" She tried to put her hand on her arm, but Grace shook her away.  
  
"Yeah, right." Not sure what eles to say, she burst out of the common room and hurried to the library. She found Micheal sitting at the small table in the corner, their usual spot, with his chess pieces already arranged.  
  
"You're late," he said, not looking up. Grace sat down heavily, and Micheal looked at her at last. "What's the matter."  
  
"I...I just heard...something horrible."  
  
"Grace, what is it?"  
  
She fought back tears of rage as she spoke. "They...the girls...they were saying horrible things. That my father is the devil. Why would they say that? They've never met him!"  
  
Micheal looked uncomfortable, and he played with his chess pieces a little before speaking. "There are some rumors going around. But I know the truth."  
  
"Why would they say that, Micheal? Tell me!"  
  
Micheal put a finger to his lips. "You wanna get that old bat over here?" he demanded in a loud whisper. He sighed heavily. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this. You should ask your father."  
  
"He wouldn't tell me! Oh, you MUST, Micheal! You're my best friend!"  
  
Micheal put a finger to his lips again, but he looked pleased that he'd been dubbed as Grace's best friend. "Okay, but you can't get mad at me. I'm only telling you what I know."  
  
"Okay. Go on."  
  
Micheal sighed. "You've heard of Voldemort, haven't you?"  
  
"You mean, You-Know-Who?" Grace asked, flinching slightly at the sound of the name. "Yes, I have."  
  
"Well...your father, you see...he was a big supporter of him. In the inner circle and everything."  
  
"What?" Grace couldn't believe it. "You...must be mistaken. Daddy would never..."  
  
"Look, do you want to know, or not?" Micheal demanded impatiently. Grace nodded, still shocked at what she'd just heard, and Micheal continued. "He's been to Azkaban, twice: once, probably before we were born, but he escaped. Lack of dementors, you see. The second time, we would've been about...three? Do your remember?"  
  
Grace thought back, and gasped slightly. She DID remember a time when her father was gone, but...he'd been traveling! That's what the letters that Nurse Europa had read to her said. She still had them in her bedroom! But she dared not protest with her friend, and he continued: "The second time, he got out by paying off the Minister and swearing his loyalty to the Ministry. And, he named names."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"He sold out his fellow Death Eaters. Many of them are dads or uncles or relatives of the kids in Slytherin."  
  
Grace's eyes got wide with relization. THAT'S why the Slytherin kids were so mean to her!  
  
"There's more," Micheal said softly. He put his hand over Grace's. "They're saying that he's not really your father."  
  
Grace nodded. "I know he isn't. A Muggle in Greece is."  
  
Micheal nodded, too. "It's a big joke to all the snobby purebreed families. 'A Mudblood with the Malfoy name', they say. Basturds," he muttered bitterly.  
  
Grace burst into tears, hardly believing any of it. Her father had been a DEATH EATER! He'd killed and tortured people, for an evil wizard. Gods, she thought. How could he? And everyone was talking about her behind her back, calling her a Mudblood. Big joke. Haha.  
  
"Grace, don't cry!" Micheal exclaimed. He reached over and wrapped his friend in a tight hug. Grace sobbed onto his shoulder, thinking of how nice his robes smelled. Like orange serbet. How? she wondered slightly. But she put her head off his shoulder and looked at him  
  
"I'm not gonna cry anymore," she whispered fiercely. "I...have to go on, like before. Like I don't know any of it."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Grace nodded. "I just have to pretend that people aren't talking about me. That's I'm not some joke to everyone."  
  
"Not to EVERYONE!" Micheal exclaimed quickly. "Just the Slytherins!"  
  
Grace shook her head. "No, the girls in my house were talking about me, too. Who eles has, eh? The whole Gryfindor common room?"  
  
"No," Micheal said icily. "And I'd never let them. After all," he said with a smile, "you ARE my best friend."  
  
Grace smiled, laughed a little, and hugged Micheal again.  
  
During Christmas holiday that year, Grace woke up late one night. She'd been akward around her father, after learning the truth. Whenever he asked her what was wrong, she'd give him her patented smile and say, "Nothing, Daddy. I'm just tired."  
  
She went to the desk, and opened the bottom drawer. There were the pile of letters that her father had sent her when he was in Azkaban, all 53 of them. All of them full of comforting lies. Grace picked them up and went to her fireplace, where a fire was burning and warming the room all night. She opened up the wire gate and knelt down before the burning embers.  
  
One by one, she burned every single letter, watching the blackened paper curl as tears filled her eyes. 


	15. Part Fifteen

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Fifteen:  
  
After her second year of school, Grace stopped hanging out with the girls in her dormitory. Though none of them ever mentioned "the incident" again, and acted cordial, even friendly, towards each other, Grace never forgot it...or completly forgave them. She'd lost her faith in other girls, and turned to the boys for companionship.  
  
And so, Grace went into her third year with much Quidditch knowledge, in order to hold up a conversation with the boys in her house. They took her in, more willingly then the girls would've, because boys don't seem to put much stock into gossip. Even though most of what is said is true, Grace thought bitterly. But she forgot her bitterness, and had fun talking Quidditch stratgies and playing Wizard's Chess and Cobblestones with her new friends.  
  
On the second week of school, a sign came up on the Ravenclaw common room bulletin board, announcing that the house Quidditch team was looking for a new Seeker and Beater. Grace was tempted to sign the list with her other friends, except for one little problem.  
  
She didn't have a broom.  
  
"No problem," Micheal said that evening, as they sat in the library together. "You can borrow mine until you get your own."  
  
"I don't know HOW to fly," Grace admitted in an embarressed whisper, and Micheal had to smile.  
  
"No problem. Flying is the greatest thing in the world. Sign the list tomorrow morning, and after dinner I'll let you try out my broom. It's brand new, a Metallic Bolt."  
  
"Oh, Micheal, thank you!" Grace cried, wrapping her best friend in a tight hug.  
  
The next day, Grace signed her name under the sign up sheet. But when she came to the spot that asked what position she should sign on for, she was stuck. Being a Seeker would be cool, but it would be so much responsibility. And being a Beater would be fun, but it was also dangerous. In the end, Grace decided to sign up for Seeker. She didn't really expect to make the team, anyway: it would just be fun to try out.  
  
The day went by slower then any other Grace had ever had at Hogwarts. She was impatienly waiting for the evening, and was tempted to ask Micheal to skip dinner and go to the Quidditch pitch early. It was only her own hunger that made her wait until after the Great Hall began to clear out.  
  
She found Micheal waiting in the front hall, and he got his broom from behind the wardrobe where he'd stored it. Grace took a moment to hold it and examine it's every features: the silver shine of the painted wood, the glimmer of the perfectly-trimmed tail, the moving front that helped do the steering. "I don't know if I'll be able to ride this thing," she said nervously as she handed the broom back to Micheal.  
  
"No problem," Micheal said, hoisting it over his shoulder as they headed out the front doors. "It's practically idiot proof. Oh, on second thought..."  
  
"Jerk," she mumbled, with a smile as she knocked into him. He knocked back into her, and she waved her arms to keep her balance, laughing. Excitement filled her up, making her full stomach ache slightly as they drew closer to the pitch.  
  
They stood in the middle of it, with the stands all around them and the goal posts on either side of them. "Okay," Micheal said, setting the broom on the ground. "All you have to do is stand over the broom, like this." He demonstrated. "Then, you say, "Up"."  
  
"Up?" Grace remembered all of the complicated, Latin-based spells in her Charms and Transfiguration classes. This seemed too easy. She stood over it, as Micheal had shown her, and said, "Up."  
  
And the broom did not rise.  
  
"You sound scared," Micheal said with a laugh.  
  
"The broom doesn't like me," Grace said, discouraged.  
  
"No, that's not it," Micheal said jovially. "Don't get upset, Grace, it was your first try. And did you see, it rolled over? Took me nearly the whole first afternoon I got it to make it do that."  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
"Try again," Micheal said. "You'll get it soon, I know you will. Just think...confidence."  
  
"Okay, confidence," Grace said, to herself. She positioned herself beside the broom again, putting her hand over it. "UP!" she cried, and she clearly saw the broom roll over. "It moved!" she cried excitedly.  
  
"See?" Micheal said, beaming. "You're a natural. You'll have it in no time. Try again."  
  
It only took a few more tries to make the broom float under Grace's hand, and she was so excited that she made it fall again. But as soon as she had it, she was able to summon it up again easily.  
  
"Now, you swing you left leg over the side, like a horse. You've ridden a horse?"  
  
"Yes," Grace said, vaguely remembering the horse they'd had at Malfoy Manor. When it had bucked her off, her father had sent her inside. She later learned, from the gossiping house elves, that her father had killed it.  
  
"Okay, climb on."  
  
Grace swung herself over the broom, and wrapped her legs around it. "See? You're a natural!" Micheal said, beaming with pride. Though Grace suspected that he was more proud of his teaching abilities then his student's accomplishments. "You're ready to fly. Just...push off the ground and go."  
  
Grace put her feet on the ground, and pushed off...and screamed as she flew into the air. But her fear at falling up subsided quickly when she realized: she was FLYING! She flew around the pitch, around the goal posts on either side, making sharp turns and coming in for an impressivly good landing, for a beginner, right next to Micheal, who clapped his hands in delight.  
  
"You did it, you did it!" he cried, nearly tackling her as he hugged her.  
  
"I FLEW!" she cried, as excited as a small child. "Did you see me?"  
  
"You're a natural!" Micheal said proudly. "I think you'd make a good Seeker, you really know how to lean forward just right for the right amount of speed. And you..." Micheal went on and on and on about things Grace had done to be a good flyer, and she hadn't even realized she was doing them. She'd just gotten up there and done it. I flew! she thought happily. I can't believe it!  
  
"If they don't make you Seeker, they're insane!"   
  
"But I'm only in third year," Grace said sadly. "Besides, lots of the others who signed up against me have much more flying experience."  
  
"Experience doesn't make natural talent like yours," Micheal said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Tell you what: the tryouts for Ravenclaw are in a week, right? Well, we'll come out to the pitch every evening to practice flying. You'll be as good as any of them by the try-outs!"  
  
"You really think so?"  
  
"'Course! You're great!"  
  
Grace flushed with embarressment. She'd never been happier in her life.  
  
Now, two weeks later, she'd never been more HUMILIATED in her life.  
  
In the past two weeks, so much had happened. She'd gone from being a first-time broom flyer to the Seeker of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. How that happened, she would never know. All she knew was that her name was called off as the Seeker, and she was presented with a set of blue Quidditch robes.  
  
Since she didn't have her own broom, Grace wrote a letter home, explaining that she needed a broom for the team. Grace was sure that her father would come through: after all, he'd even told her once that Draco, the brother she never knew, was a Seeker for the Slytherin team back in his day. Runs in the family, she thought proudly. Even though I'm in a different house...  
  
Grace had asked specifically for a Metallic Bolt, because that's the kind she was used to after riding Micheal's so often. But, she'd written, she could probably ride a Meteor Shower or an older model of the Blinking Star series, if they were still avaliable. Ever since Grace made the team, she'd become an expert of not only the game of Quidditch, but of the popular brooms that the professional teams used.  
  
So when Grace's own came with the post a week later, and there wasn't a long, narrow parcel attached to it's leg, she was confused. Until she saw what WAS attached to it.  
  
A red envelope.  
  
A Howler.  
  
Everyone at the table gapped at her, and Grace scrambled to her feet, holding the Howler in front of her. What had she done? There must be a mistake: how could Dadddy do this? she wondered as she dashed from the Great Hall. She barely made it out when the Howler exploded and her father's voice, a hundred times it's normal volume, sounded out.  
  
"A BROOMSTICK! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND? QUIDDITCH! MY GODS! SUCH RECKLESS BEHAVIOR! IT'S NO WONDER YOUR GRADES HAVE BEEN SUFFERING!"  
  
Grace rushed up the stairs to her common room as the letter continued to sound out. How could he do this? she thought as angry tears filled her eyes. How could he?  
  
He was obviously drunk: Grace could tell by the slurring of his language. She wondered if he was drunk BEFORE he'd recieved her letter, asking for a broom, or was drunk as a RESULT of the letter.  
  
"WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO, GET YOURSELF KILLED? MERLIN'S BEARD, CHILD! YOU ARE TO NEVER RIDE A BROOM AGAIN, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD? NO DAUGHTER OF MINE...WHY, I'VE A MIND TO COME DOWN THERE MYSELF AND STRANGLE WHOEVER LENT YOU THEIR BROOM. THE SHAME! I WILL NOT LET YOU PUT YOUR LIFE IN YOUR HANDS, LENORE GRACE MALFOY. DO NOT MAKE ME WRITE ANOTHER ONE OF THESE."  
  
Just as Grace reached the common room, the letter burst into flames in her hands. She dropped it, and it disappeared. With a scream of rage and humiliation, Grace grabbed the nearest object, someone's Arthimancy book, and flung it to the opposite wall. Then, she ran up to her room.   
  
She did not cry. What would crying do? She'd been humiliated, but she'd gotten out of there. Nobody heard the worst of it, she told herself.  
  
Suddenly, disapointment took over. She had to give up her position! After she'd worked so hard...why does Daddy have to be so stubborn? she thought bitterly. Why won't he trust me? He still thinks I'm some dumb kid. I can handle Quidditch, I can!  
  
But there was nothing she could do. That afternoon, she turned in her robes to the Quidditch captain, Trent Mahoney, who seemed disapointed to loose her so soon. But the position for Seeker went to a fifth year, Jupiter Moonlight, and the issue was forgotten.  
  
Not to Grace, though. She would never forget what her father had done to her, just as she never forgot how the other girls treated her. But, as with that situation, she would push it aside and move on. 


	16. Part Sixteen

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Sixteen:  
  
As time went on, Lucius turned a blind eye to his daughter's developing body. To him, his little Gracie was still that...little. He didn't see the blossoming woman before him, he still saw a little girl who played with dolls and did everything her daddy told her.  
  
Well, she still did the latter.  
  
Lucius always enjoyed the summer holidays more then any time of the year, and the letter from Hogwarts every August was his least favorite thing to recieve. The summer before Grace's fifth year, the letter came before Grace came down to breakfast, and Lucius opened it to scan the supply list. I suppose we'll take a trip to Diagon Alley today, he thought sadly.  
  
Suddenly, amid the list of books and things, he saw it: dress robes. Dress robes? he thought. What the bloody hell do they need dress robes for? A ball? The thought made Lucius's heart fill with dread: the only ball he'd ever attended during school was during Christmas. If Grace went to the ball, he wouldn't see her until next summer!  
  
Just at that moment, Grace came into the dining hall. She smiled brightly, making Lucius's mood rise somewhat. "Good morning, Daddy!" she sang happily as she went to his side and pecked him on the cheek.  
  
"Good morning, Darling."  
  
"Oh, my school letter!" Grace sat down, and Lucius handed it to her with a sigh. "May we go to Diagon Alley today, Daddy, please?"  
  
"Of course, Gracie."  
  
Grace scanned the list, and let out an excited gasp. "Dress robes? What are those for?"  
  
"A ball, I expect," Lucius said, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.  
  
"A ball?" The excitement in his daughter's voice angered Lucius, though he wasn't sure why.  
  
"We'll have to get you some nice ones," Lucius said, trying to sound enthusiastic. But the tone of his voice made Grace look up from her letter and shoot her father a look of concern.  
  
"Daddy? Is something wrong?"  
  
It was almost as if their roles were reversed, Lucius thought. How ironic. "Well..." he said slowly. "The ball will probably be during Christmas holiday, which means that you won't be coming home this year..."  
  
"Oh," Grace said, her face dropping. "Do you want me to not go, then?"  
  
"No!" Lucius cried quickly. "Of course not, my dear. You'll go to that ball, and you'll be the prettiest girl there."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Eat your breakfast," Lucius said, eager to change the subject. "I expect that Diagon Alley will be crowded today."  
  
"Yes, Daddy," Grace said obediantly, concentrating on her breakfast plate with a worried look on her face. Lucius felt a twinge of guilt, but he pushed it back. Perhaps she'd change her mind about the ball, he thought hopefully. And it wouldn't be my fault, because I said she could go.  
  
They went to Diagon Alley right after breakfast. Though it was only mid-morning, the place was already crowded with Hogwarts students and their families. Though Grace saw many of her school friends, Lucius kept a firm hand on her arm to keep her from leaving his side. He didn't care that she was fifteen: to him, she was still a small child that he needed to watch over.  
  
After buying the usual supplies of books, quills, parchment, and other things, Lucius took Grace to Madame Morrible's Robe Shop, the most expensive robe shop in London, he knew. He was one of their best customers, and when he walked in, Madame Morrible herself greeted him warmly.  
  
"Dress robes for the girl, I assume," the middle aged woman said warmly. "We've been fairly busy today, as you can see..." She gestured around the room at the children of rich wizard families who were picking their dress robes.  
  
"I'll be back in an hour," Lucius said, for he knew that the process of dress robes was much longer and more tedious then buying school robes. Lucius kissed his daughter's forehead. "Good luck, Gracie. Have fun."  
  
"Goodbye, Daddy." Lucius left the shop, planning to Apparate home and wait to come back. He didn't need the whole wizarding community gawking at him anymore.  
  
An hour later, Lucius returned to Madame Morrible's. The place was much less crowded then it had been, but Grace was nowhere in sight.  
  
One of Madame Morrible's assistants informed Lucius that Grace was still having her robes prepared. "Oh, she's choosen a LOVELY design," the young assistant gushed. "The fashion this year is somewhat Muggle-based, a bit more DRESS then ROBE, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Of course," Lucius said. He'd always preferred his daughter in dresses then robes. He sat and waited nearly another half-hour, until Madame Morrible came out from the back room.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy! I'm so glad you're here. I know you'll be very pleased with your daughter, she looks just lovely."  
  
"Well, bring her out, then," Lucius said, standing up. He held back his excitement. In spite of his previous feelings, he was excited to see his daughter in pretty dress robes.  
  
Grace came out from the back room, pushing the red velvet curtains aside and standing before them, gushing with pride. Lucius took in the dress robes. The underdress was white silk and sleeveless, and showed off her dusky skin. The overlayer was transparent white, and her arms showed underneath. She looked very lovely, except...  
  
Lucius's eyes traveled to his daughter's chest, and he had to hold back a gasp. Cleavage! He felt rage towards Madame Morrible boil inside of him. "What," he demanded icily, "is THAT?"  
  
"What?" The woman examined the girl, obviously proud of her lovely masterpiece of dress robes. "Why, don't you like it, sir?"  
  
"LOOK at her!" Lucius exclaimed, gesturing to his daughter.   
  
"She looks quite lovely-"  
  
"She looks," Lucius said coldly, "like a common prostitute."  
  
Grace gaped at him as Madam Morrible rushed to the defense of her creation. "Mr. Malfoy, I don't see any problems with the robes-"  
  
"Then perhaps you failed to notice that my daughter's chest is sticking out." Grace looked mortified, but Lucius was in too much of a rage to notice.  
  
Madame Morrible examined the dress again. "Sir, that's the design of the dress. In fact, Miss Malfoy had us cut it higher then it originally was. She looks quite tasteful."  
  
"Your opinion of tasteful doesn't matter to me," Lucius said, as coldly as ever, "I am the one paying for this, and I am not satisfied."  
  
"Daddy, please," Grace whispered, finding her voice. Lucius turned to her, noticing her for the first time.   
  
"Gracie," he whispered gently, "you don't want dress robes cut so low."  
  
"But, Daddy-"  
  
"You're much to young," Lucius said softly. "The dress will be just a lovely if it's cut higher." The look of resignation on his daughter's face told him that Lucius had won this fight. He turned back to Madame Morrible. "I will be back in another half-hour. I expect to find my daughter fixed by then."  
  
"Yes, sir," the woman said curtly, obviously hurt that her latest piece of work had been rejected.  
  
Lucius returned later, and was happy with the results. The dress robes were the same, except that there wasn't a spot of cleavage showing. Satisfied, Lucius smiled and nodded. "Very lovely, Gracie. Turn around slowly for Daddy, now."  
  
Grace obeyed, twirling proudly in her lovely robes. Lucius smiled and turned to Madame Morrible, good humor restored since he'd gotten his way.  
  
"Now," he said, "payment. You will, of course, be adding the alteration price to the bill?"  
  
"Of course," Madame Morrible said with a smile. And all was well.  
  
At least, that's what Lucius thought. 


	17. Part Seventeen

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Seventeen:  
  
Though her father apologized for making a scene in the robe shop, Grace just couldn't forget how he'd humiliated her...once again. What's the big deal, if a little bit of cleavage shows? she thought bitterly as they headed home. It's in FASHION. I'm fifteen, I should be able to dress any way I want to. Of course, Grace was too chicken to stand up to her father. They were only dress robes, after all, and they looked pretty still.  
  
At school, everyone (well, the girls, that is) were abuzz about the up-coming ball. It was announced at the Halloween feast that it would, indeed, be a Christmas ball...Yule Ball, in fact.  
  
And so, it began.  
  
Everyone in the fourth to seventh year was frantic to find a date. The girls in the first through third years were, also, for they could go if they had an older date. Many girls were having trouble finding "the right guy" to go with...but not Grace. To her surprise, she recieved many invitations to the ball. From boys that she barely knew to ones that she'd regarded as friends for the past few years. I had no idea that they fancied me, she thought, embarressed. But she wasn't interested in any of them.  
  
The only person who asked her that was worth CONSIDERING was Virgo Genesis, one of the Beaters on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. He was fairly cute, very popular...but Grace just wasn't sure...  
  
There really was only one person that she WANTED to go with. And he didn't ask her. And she'd never, ever ask him herself. Micheal.  
  
Grace wasn't sure how long she'd fancied her best friend. Since the year before, she supposed. He let her ride his broom often, even though her father had forbidden it. "Hey, what Daddy doesn't know, won't hurt him," he'd teased. And they played Wizard's Chess and other games all the time, just as they had in their first year. He wouldn't want to go with me, she thought miserably. We're friends, that's all. Maybe I'll go with Virgo...  
  
One evening, Grace met Micheal in the library for their usual round of Wizard's Chess. But he hadn't set up the board or the pieces yet. "Micheal? What're you doing?"  
  
"I...have to ask you something."  
  
At the serious tone of Micheal's voice, Grace sat down, her heart thudding happily. He's going to ask me to the Yule Ball! she thought. She looked at him, trying to hide her anxiousness. "What is it?"  
  
"Well...you know the Yule Ball is coming up..."  
  
"Yes...?"  
  
"And I was thinking about asking someone."  
  
"Oh?" Grace asked, her confidence building. "Who would that be?"  
  
"Well...it's...Trista Vertelli, your roommate."  
  
Grace felt her heart sink. TRISTA? That BITCH who was talking shit about her in the second year...and possibly still? But Grace held back her disapointment and anger. "Well..."  
  
"I just wanted to ask, is she going with anyone yet?" Micheal looked as anxious as Grace felt. "I mean, I wouldn't want to make a fool out of myself..."  
  
As far as Grace knew, Trista didn't have a date yet. "Well, I don't know," she said honestly. "Just ask her."  
  
"But-"  
  
"If she's avaliable, I'm sure she'll go with you," Grace snapped, wanting the subject to be done and over with.  
  
Micheal was so happy, he didn't notice that Grace was in a bad mood. "So, which of your many suitors are you going to (excuse the pun), GRACE with your lovely presence?" His mocking stung more then the unintentional rejection, but Grace tried to sound off-hand.  
  
"Oh, I haven't decided," she said casually. "But I'm leaning towards Virgo Genesis..."  
  
"Virgo Genesis?" Micheal looked like he'd swallowed a puke-flavored bean. "Grace, that meathead has no more sense then a headless chicken. Why, in Merlin's name, would you go with him?"  
  
"He ASKED me," Grace snapped, annoyed at the critism. After all, she hadn't gone off on Trista. "Besides," she added cattily, "there's nobody I'd rather go with."  
  
"Is that so?" Micheal clucked, a small smile on his face, and he finally set up the chess pieces. But Grace was too annoyed and disapointed to get her head into it, and Micheal easily dominated her.  
  
"I'm tired," Grace said, after only three games. She gathered up her pieces. "I have to go to bed now. I want to be well rested when I accept my invitation from Virgo to the Yule Ball."  
  
"Have fun," Micheal said sarcasticly. Grace stalked out of the library, her untrembling chin in the air. She wouldn't let Micheal get to her. She'd go to the ball, and have fun...in spite of him.  
  
The next morning, Grace thought of approaching Virgo at breakfast. He kept looking at her and smiling from across the Great Hall, but she decided to wait. So, she just smiled and waved, and returned to her breakfast.   
  
The waiting was to her advantage.  
  
At lunch, Trista sat down next to her. They were closer now then they'd been since second year, but Grace still didn't completly trust her...or anyone eles, for that matter. Trista looked both excited and disapointed, at the same time. "I have a date for the Yule Ball," she said.  
  
"Oh, really? Who?" Grace asked casually. As if I don't already know, she thought bitterly.  
  
"Paul Malone." The sound of the unfamiliar name nearly knocked Grace from her bench.   
  
"Oh...whose that?"  
  
Trista blushed. "He's a Slytherin. I know that they have a bad reputation, but...he's so nice. And cute! He asked me today in our Transfiguration class."  
  
"Congratulations," Grace said cheerfully, as a relization came to her: Micheal was still free!  
  
"Thanks," Trista said. "But you'll never guess who asked me to the ball later, in Ancient Runes?"  
  
"Professor Snape?"   
  
"Ha ha," Trista said good-naturally. "No, it was Micheal! You know, your friend."  
  
"He asked you?" Grace tried to make her tone surprised.   
  
"He's so nice," Trista said. "And cute, too. Not as much as Paul, but..." Trista sighed. "I shot him down. I had to, of course."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"He seemed pretty disapointed," Trista continued. "But I was surprised that he asked me. I always thought he rather fancied you."  
  
"Oh, well, you know...we're just friends."  
  
"Oh." It was clear that Trista didn't believe her. "Well, I hope you won't be angry at me, for hurting his feelings...I know what good FRIENDS you are."  
  
"Of course, I'm not angry," Grace said as smoothly as she could. "It happens. He'll survive."  
  
"You should go together!" Trista exclaimed. "It would be so adorable!"  
  
Grace had to hold back from laughing. Yeah, she thought sarcasticly. After last night, he wouldn't want me, now...  
  
That night, Grace met Micheal in the library again. He looked as serious tonight as he had the night before. "Well, did you accept your date with Ol' Meathead yet?" he asked bitterly as she sat down.  
  
"No. But I heard about Trista. I'm sorry."  
  
Micheal smiled, a little, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it. "Why didn't you talk to him yet?"  
  
"Been busy," she said simply. Micheal's smile widened.  
  
"Well, maybe you'll never get the chance to talk to him," he said triumphantly.  
  
Grace raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Think about it. You don't have a date, I don't have a date...let's go together!"  
  
Grace forced herself to laugh. "What makes you think I want to go with you? I'm not your backup!"  
  
"I'm not asking you to be my backup!"  
  
"Yeah, right," Grace said, still laughing a little. "You couldn't go with the girl you REALLY wanted, so you thought, well, fiddle-dee-dee! I'll just go with Grace, then! SHE doesn't have a date!"  
  
"I don't say 'fiddle-dee-dee'," Micheal said bitterly.  
  
Grace laughed. "So, you want to go with me, eh?"  
  
"Well, if you're going to be that way..." Micheal sighed. "Yes, Grace. I really, really want to go with you. You're the prettiest girl in our whole class...possibly the whole school."  
  
Grace couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What?"  
  
Micheal smiled. "Come on, Grace. Don't you know that I've fancied you for a long time? Since...third year, I think."  
  
"But, Micheal..." Grace's eyes got huge. "I DIDN'T know. But I think other people did." She paused. "So, if you fancied me so much, why did you ask Trista?"  
  
"Come on, Grace," Micheal said impatiently. "Do you really think I could compete with all those other guys fighting for your attention? I mean, Virgo Genesis! Half the girls in the school want to go with HIM."  
  
"Not me," Grace said softly, and Micheal smiled. "I'll...I'll go with you, Micheal."  
  
"You mean it?" Micheal grinned, a goofy grin that made Grace forget that he was an eighth veela (he'd told her his mother was a fourth). He just looked like a silly, red-haired boy. And she cared for him, so much.  
  
Grace reached across the table and lightly kissed Micheal's cheek. "Yeah." With that, she got up and left. It just didn't seem right to play Wizard's Chess after THAT.  
  
The day of the Yule Ball, every girl in the school was frantic as they got ready. Grace and her roomies rushed about the room, helping each other into their robes and admiring each other. The three other Ravenclaws gaped at Grace's expensive white robes with awe, and Trista was the first to finally speak. "Oh, Grace...you look so lovely."  
  
"Yeah," the others agreed, and Grace smiled with embarressed pride. Perhaps Trista isn't SO bad, she thought. Trista further redeemed herself in Grace's eyes by helping her with makeup. Grace had never worn it before, for her father would never allow it and most of her friends were boys. Trista sat Grace at the desk in their dormitory and set to work, making Grace's eyelids shimmer with silver that matched the jewlery her father sent her for Christmas, and her cheeks flush darkly. Trista led Grace to the full-length looking glass.  
  
"See?" Trista whispered. "You'll be the prettiest girl there."  
  
"Next to you," Grace said kindly as she admired her own reflection. She knew she was being vain, but tonight, it didn't matter.  
  
Tonight would be PERFECT.  
  
For the final touch, Grace magicked silver shimmers in her dark curls, which she'd choosen to keep down instead of putting up into a complicated hairdo like her roomies. With her silver jewelery to complete the picture, Grace realized what everyone, from her father to her roomies, had been saying: she WAS pretty.  
  
The four Ravenclaw fifth years went out of the common room and to the front hall together. They all had dates from other houses. In fact, Judy had been asked by Virgo after the news that Grace and Micheal were together got out.   
  
The friends parted ways to find their dates, but Grace found Micheal right away. He was leaning casually against the wall, away from the swarming crowd of students. He was dressed in navy robes, which tightened slightly in the upper arms to show off his muscles from Quidditch. He straightened when he saw Grace. "Wow," he said, in awe. "You look...wow."  
  
"Thanks," Grace said, feeling her face grow hot. She'd never felt so akward around her best friend before.  
  
"Well...ready to go in there, then?"  
  
"Yes," Grace said, eager to get out of the bright front hall and away from the staring eyes of the boys. Micheal looped his arm with hers and they went into the Great Hall together.  
  
The place where they usually ate looked INCREDIBLE. The stars on the ceiling, the fairy lights on the walls, the cozy little tables scattered all around. Grace and Micheal sat at one, and they were soon joined by two other Gryfindors, their friend Chris Horvol and his date, Victoria Simonson. "Wow, Grace, you look fantastic!" Vickie gushed.  
  
"Thanks, so do you," Grace said sincerly.   
  
They ate their dinners, though Grace could barely remember what they had. Did it really matter? They were going to dance! Grace had never danced with anyone besides her father before, and was eager to try the dances he'd taught her with a REAL partner. And Micheal seemed as good as any: after all, he said that his French mother had taught him to dance.  
  
The band, whom Grace didn't recognize, played a variety of songs...most of which, Grace's knowledge of dancing did her no good. Micheal seemed just as confused as she did. "How can we waltz to this?" he wondered aloud. "What IS this?"  
  
Grace laughed. "I think our parents have screwed us over."  
  
"Once again."  
  
Grace took his pale hand in her dark one, surprised by how warm he was. "Come on, let's get out for a minute."  
  
They went out into the front lawn, but it had been turned into a mini hedge-maze. Fairy lights covered all the bushes and the small trees. There were silver benches scattered all around, and as Grace and Micheal walked along, they saw various couples making out...including Trista and her date, Paul. How tacky, she thought bitterly, then remembered that she wasn't upset at Trista anymore.  
  
Besides, she was about to be "tacky" herself.  
  
In the middle of the little maze was a giant fountain: a stone centar shooting water out of it's bow into the pool of water at it's feet. There was a bench nearby, and Grace led Micheal to it. "Let's sit here. I like the fountain."  
  
"Alright," Micheal said, clearly nervous about the situation they were in. They sat down, and sort of looked at the night sky for a little while. Then, Grace turned to Micheal.  
  
"There's something I forgot to tell you," she said softly.  
  
"What is it?" Micheal asked, looking at her. Grace noticed how big and beautiful his hazel eyes were. It wasn't just the veela in him that made him attractive...he was just so endearing.  
  
"Yeah," Grace said nervously. "You know how, in the library that night...you said you'd...fancied me?"  
  
"Yeah?" They'd never spoken of it since, and tried to go on as if they were just two friends going to the ball together...but something was amiss. And Grace knew what it was.  
  
"Well, I forgot to tell you...I've fancied you, too."  
  
Micheal's eyes got even wider. "Really? Since...when?"  
  
Grace shrugged. "Dunno...third, fourth year?"  
  
"Oh, really?" Micheal smiled as wide as he ever had. "I...had no idea. I don't think anyone eles knew, either."  
  
"Well, I'm better at hiding my feelings then you are," Grace said, giggling. Suddenly, she felt as though the breath was knocked out of her.  
  
Micheal kissed her. And kissed her. And she didn't pull away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.  
  
And, for the first time in her life, all thoughts of her father and his approval faded from her mind. 


	18. Part Eighteen

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Eighteen:  
  
As Lucius poured tea into the two large, delicate cups, he glanced over at his daughter and smiled to himself. She was finally home again, after a nine month stay at school. Gone all fall, winter and spring, she was finally home again for the summer. Blessed summer, Lucius thought, focusing his attention back to his daughter's teacup before the liquid spilled over.  
  
"One lump or two?"  
  
The question seemed to startle Grace out of some faraway dream land, for she jumped and stared at her father. "I'm sorry, what?"  
  
"I asked, one lump of sugar, or two?" Lucius examined his daughter. A glazed, dreamy look was leaving her eyes.   
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized again. "Two, please." Lucius stirred the lumps in, and handed the teacup with it's matching little plate to his daughter. "Thank you," she said softly, leaning back in her armchair. Lucius took his own tea and sat in the chair across from Grace, with the little coffee table between them.  
  
"I can't believe you're finally home," Lucius said, for about the millionith time since she'd arrived the day before. Grace smiled shyly and sipped her tea silently. She'd been acting strangly since she'd come home...like she had something to hide. Lucius tried to tell himself that it was because she'd been away for so long that she was acting strange, that she needed time to get used to things, then she'd act like herself again.  
  
But he didn't particularly like that explaination. After all, Malfoy Manor was her home. And she was away from home way too much.  
  
But Lucius steered his mind from his thoughts and started a conversation with his daughter. "So, you took the O.W.L.s this year, darling?" Grace nodded again.  
  
"Oh, yes," she sighed. "They were quite brutal."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," Lucius said sincerly. The thought of his little girl working so hard worried him even more. "But I'm sure you did fine. You're so smart."  
  
"I hope so," Grace said. "I need to keep all my classes, and I have to have done well if the professors will take me on."  
  
"You need to keep all your classes?" Lucius was curious now. "Aren't you going to drop some? Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts...Potions, at least."  
  
"Oh, no!" Grace cried with a little laugh. "No, I have to take them all. Even Potions," she said, making a face.   
  
Lucius wondered what career his daughter could possibly be thinking of that would involve all of those tough classes. He'd been hoping that, after O.W.L.s, she'd be able to take it easy for her last two years. And here she goes, bogging herself down with MORE classes! he thought. "You got your career advirsory this year, as well?"  
  
Grace nodded. "Oh, yes. I hadn't really been thinking about what I wanted to be before, you know? But after speaking with Professor Flitwick..." She seemed hesitant to continue about the meeting with her Head of House, and took a long sip of her tea. As a further stalling, she reached to the coffee table for a ginger biscuit and nibbled it slowly.  
  
"Well? What advice did old Fliwick give you?" Lucius asked, fighting to keep the impatience out of his voice. Why was she being so shy about this? It's ME! he thought, exasperated.  
  
"We had a really long meeting," Grace said, avoiding the subject. "He said it was sort of hard to decide a career for me. But after going through the pamphlets and things, we figured something out. I think it's perfect for me."  
  
"Well...?"  
  
"But it'll take a lot of hard work," Grace continued, and Lucius could tell that she was avoiding his eyes. "I have to get at least an "O" in all of my classes for my N.E.W.T.s. Hard work, but I think I can do it."  
  
"What job could possibly require such hard work?" Lucius demanded. Grace looked at him after taking yet another slow sip of her tea.  
  
"I was thinking of...and please, don't judge harshly-"  
  
"Grace!" Lucius scolded. "Oh with it!"  
  
"I was thinking of becoming...an Auror."  
  
Lucius nearly dropped his teacup. He stared at the girl across from him, his small, swarthy, dark-haired daughter. "Grace-"  
  
"Please, Daddy, don't!" she cried, nearly spilling tea on her dress. "Please, don't say anything about it!"  
  
"I can't put my two cents in?"  
  
"No!" Grace cried. Lucius was hurt...she doesn't even care how I feel about this, Lucius thought. But he was going to tell her anyway.  
  
"I don't think it's a good idea, Gracie."  
  
"Stop, Daddy!" she cried.  
  
"Aurors are supposed to be big, and men," Lucius continued calmly. "You're a tiny little girl."  
  
"I'm not-"  
  
"Now, Gracie," Lucius said gently, "please, be reasonable. Being an Auror just isn't right for you."  
  
"Flitwick thinks I can!" Grace cried defensively. "HE doesn't think I'm too small."  
  
"My darling," Lucius said softly, "NOBODY looks too small to Flitwick."  
  
"I don't care what you say," Grace said stubbornly, looking away. "I'll be an Auror. I don't care."  
  
Lucius sighed and placed his tea on the coffee table. Time to talk some sense into her, silly little girl, he thought affectionatly. "Gracie, look at me."  
  
Reluctantly, the girl turned to face her father again. He smiled at her, a gentle smile. "Now, now, my dear," he said softly, "you mustn't get upset."  
  
"But-"  
  
"No, Gracie," Lucius said softly. "Let me speak. I've been thinking a lot about your future. For years. And being an Auror...well, that just doesn't fit with my plans."  
  
"You don't think I can do it," Grace said, looking down again. "You don't think I'm smart enough."  
  
"You know that's not true," Lucius said firmly. "It's just, being an Auror is a huge risk. You could die on any given day. Do you want to live your life like that? Do you want ME to worry about you, day after day?"  
  
Grace sighed. "No, Daddy," she said obediantly.  
  
"Now, darling," Lucius said kindly, "I don't doubt your intelligence, not in the least. Which is why I think you should be a Healer."  
  
"A...Healer?" Grace looked at her father, a little interest in her eyes.  
  
"Yes," Lucius said, encouraged to continue. "It's not an easy job, but it's not nearly as life-threatening as being an Auror. You still have to take a lot of classes. You could work at St. Mungo's. I've made many donations there, for years. I still do." Perhaps it will be my key back to better society...and Grace's, he thought. "It should be very easy to get you a job there. And your talents will be appreciated. Doesn't that sound good to you?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy," Grace said softly.   
  
"Didn't old Flitwick present you with this option?" Lucius asked. The old fool, he thought.  
  
"He did," Grace said slowly. "But being an Auror just seemed more...appealing."  
  
"I wouldn't find going out and getting yourself killed to be APPEALING," Lucius said sniffily. Grace flinched slightly, and Lucius felt a little guilty. "Now, darling, don't be discouraged. Flitwick couldn't possibly know what's best for you."  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"Daddy knows best," Lucius said, and Grace nodded in agreement. And that was that. "Enough of this subject," Lucius continued, picking his tea back up from the coffee table. "Now...how was that Yule Ball that you had to miss coming home for?"  
  
"It was fun," Grace said simply.  
  
"Did you, ah, have a date?" Lucius was afraid to know the answer. His daughter was lovely, and it didn't just take an overly proud parent like himself to see that. It was just a fact, and he was scared that many boys would be after her.  
  
"Just a friend," Grace said simply.  
  
"Really?" Lucius was relieved. His little girl was far too young for a boyfriend. Why does the damned school have to have balls for little children, anyway? he thought bitterly. "What is his name?"  
  
"Micheal...Winston," she lied quickly. "Muggle-born."  
  
"Ah," Lucius said, feeling a bit disaproving. But, ever since he found out that his own daughter was a half-Muggle, his discrimination towards non-purebloods had faded. Not completely, of course, but enough to at least TOLERATE his daughter hanging out with them. It could be worse, he thought. She could've gone with a Potter or Weasley or something...  
  
"But just as friends."  
  
"I understood that," Lucius said softly, feeling a bit suspcious that she'd repeated herself. No, she's just trying to reassure me, he told himself. Sweet girl. Darling girl. "Well, I just hope that you had fun."  
  
"I did," Grace said. "Loads. But the dances were strange."  
  
"Strange?" Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I thought I taught you how to dance."  
  
"You did, but...the music, was just not...right."  
  
Lucius laughed. "Perhaps we are a bit behind on the times, my dear. What is the dancing like now, then?"  
  
Grace made a disgusted face. "Just a bunch of people bumping into each other, rubbing against..." She stopped, looking embarressed. "But Micheal didn't try any of that with me."  
  
"Good," Lucius said. "This Micheal sounds like a very nice boy."  
  
"He is," Grace said quickly. "He's a very good friend to me."  
  
"That's good, darling," Lucius said with a smile. "It's always good to have good friends."  
  
If Lucius had known HOW good of friends Grace and Micheal were, he would've freaked out. If he'd known that Micheal WINSTON was indeed a WEASLEY, he would've taken his wand, found the boy, and killed him, slowly. But he remained blissfully ignorant.  
  
And Grace, it seemed, intended to keep him that way. 


	19. Part Nineteen

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Nineteen:  
  
When Grace told Micheal what her father had said during their conversation about careers, he got very upset. "He can't keep running your life for you!" Micheal cried in rage. He knew, better then any one of Grace's friends, how protective Lucius was.  
  
"He's not trying to control me," Grace said quickly, though she wasn't sure if that was true. "He's just...concerned for me. And he's right," she added hastily. "Being an Auror WOULD be dangerous."  
  
"Yeah, whatever," Micheal said, and he said no more about it. Grace knew that he was disapointed: he wanted to be an Auror, too, and they'd been talking about being Aurors together. He can just deal with it, Grace thought coldly. I'm going to be a Healer. It's my life, not his.  
  
And not Daddy's, either, said a voice in the back of her mind. But she ignored it.  
  
Micheal seemed to forget about the whole Auror thing, as the days went by. They were both busy in all their classes, since persuing careers as Aurors and Healers took a lot of time and a lot of classes. But they always made time for each other, and were one of the best-known couples in the school. They shared a lot of classes, and did cute little couple things, like hold hands in the hall and kiss each other goodbye before going their seperate ways. Grace had never been happier in her life.  
  
Over Christmas holiday, Grace was sad that she and Micheal couldn't spend their first year anniversary together, since it was on Christmas. He sent her a nice necklace, which she had to keep hidden from Lucius in the bottom of her trunk. She wore it on the train back to school, and Micheal even wore the sweater she'd tried to knit him...the key word being "tried", for she could tell that he sleeves were a bit tight. "No, I love it," Micheal insisted, kissing her. He's too sweet to me, Grace told herself.  
  
Yes, life was good.  
  
One evening in the spring, Grace was studying in the common room when one of her guy friends, Ryan McKillen, came up to her. "Hey, Micheal's looking for you."   
  
Grace sighed and slammed her book shut. "What does he want?" she questioned impatienly. She had an important test in Tranfiguration tomorrow, and she couldn't mess up.  
  
"He says to meet him at the library," Ryan said with a shrug. Grace sighed and stood up, leaving her books and things in their place.  
  
"I'll be back in a few minutes, then, after I see what he's on about." With that, Grace left the common room and went to the library.  
  
Micheal was waiting in their usual place in the back. He hadn't called her for chess, for there was no board set up. He sat at their table, and smiled when she approached. "I was sure that you wouldn't meet me," he said sheepishly.  
  
Grace sat down with an impatient grunt. "What is this about, Micheal? I have a test tomorrow."  
  
"You're so uptight," Micheal said lovingly. "I want us to do something, just to loosen you up?"  
  
Grace was thinking, okay, he DOES want to play chess or something. "Fine. what?"  
  
"Let's...go skinny dipping!"  
  
Grace raised an eyebrow at him. "What in the name of Merlin are you talking about? What is "skinny dipping"?"  
  
Micheal leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "Going swimming naked."  
  
Grace gasped and sat back in her chair. "Micheal William Weasley! What on earth are you THINKING?"  
  
"Come on, Grace, it's fun!" Micheal exclaimed. "My cousins and I did it over the summer, and...I've been dying to try it out with you. And it's the only night warm enough to do it."  
  
"You mean, in the LAKE?"  
  
"Well, we're not going to in the prefect bathroom!" Micheal exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "Someone could walk in on us." They were both prefects, though sometimes Grace wondered how they could've made Micheal one. Swimming naked...honestly! But, the idea intrigued her.  
  
"Come on, Grace," Micheal said. "Let's do it. It'll be fun."  
  
"I don't know..."  
  
"What's the matter? Afraid of what DADDY would say?"  
  
Grace scowled at him. "That's a cheap shot. Don't bring him into this. I just don't know..." But Micheal had known that the "cheap shot" would be the thing to make her go along with it.  
  
They left the library and snuck through the halls, and out the front doors. Down the dark, hilly lawns, down to the lake. As Micheal striped out of his school robes eagerly, Grace looked out at the lake. "What about the giant squid?"  
  
"He won't bother us," Micheal said simply, and he stood before her, in all his naked glory. Grace couldn't resist staring at him, his pale skin glistening in the moonlight. Finally, she took off her own robes, much slower then Micheal had taken off his. She rushed into the water, not wanting Micheal to gawk at her, and dove in when she reached a deep enough part.  
  
Micheal swam after her, catching her a few yards out and kissed her. "Your skin looks like copper," he whispered, pulling a hand through her wet hair. Grace leaned in and kissed him again, before swimming away and sending him after her again.  
  
Grace wasn't sure how long they were out there. Perhaps only fifteen minutes? They weren't being very discreet as they splashed around and laughed, but they went silent when they saw the spot of light on the water.  
  
"Micheal, look!" Grace pointed. Someone was pointing their luminated wand at the water. "Go!" she whispered loudly. They swam to the shore, close to the woods, and climbed out as quickly as they could, trying not to draw attention to themselves as they rushed into the woods. Hiding in the trees, Grace could see who was looking for them in the moonlight: Professor Snape. "Basturd," she muttered.  
  
"Shit!" Micheal cried. "He found our robes!" They watched as Snape picked up their school robes, examining them.  
  
"Our prefect badges!" Grace cried. "Our wands! Oh, we are so fucked!" What will Daddy say? she wondered.  
  
"Come on." Micheal took her hand, and led her along the edge of the woods. They were in deep enough to be hidden, but not deep enough to be in danger. Finally, Grace saw where they were headed: Hagrid'd hut at the edge of the wood. Micheal led her to the back door.  
  
"We can't go in! What if he's in there?"  
  
Micheal grinned. "He's not, trust me. He's probably in Hogsmeade, getting smashed. And if I know Hagrid, then I know that he won't be home tonight...and if he IS, he'll be far too drunk to notice us here." And, he opened the back door.   
  
Grace jumped back as Hagrid's huge boarhound, Fang Jr., nearly jumped on her. "Whoa, down, boy," Micheal said, pushing the dog inside before pulling Grace in after him. A fire was lit in the small fireplace, lighting up the whole of the small hut. The dog calmed down and settled back in his bed in the corner, and Micheal took Grace's hand again. "You're shivering. Come sit by the fire."  
  
Grace hadn't even realized she was cold as Micheal led her to the cheap rug before the fire. She sat down, but Micheal remained standing. "I'll make us some tea." Grace watched as Micheal invaded Hagrid's cupboards, and put a kettle on the small stove. He came and joined Grace as the water boiled. "I found some tea bags in the shelf above the stove."  
  
"Lovely," Grace said, beginning to feel comfortable in the tiny, untidy hut. She wasn't used to such a place, having spent her whole life in the lap of priveledge and luxery. This felt like such an exciting adventure, and Micheal was the only person she wanted to spend this evening with. She leaned in and kissed him, and was disapointed when Micheal pulled away as the kettle whistled. Damn tea.  
  
He prepared the tea bags and brought her a huge, chipped mug, so different from the delicate glass cups at home. They said cheers and sipped their tea, staring silently into the fire. Suddenly, Micheal looked at her and grinned.  
  
"So, I bet you never imagined yourself here before, have you?"  
  
Grace rolled her eyes. "Micheal, I've been in here before. We visit Hagrid all the time!"  
  
"But not like THIS," Micheal said. "I mean, look at us! It's nighttime, we're completly naked, and probably in big trouble. And we're drinking tea!"  
  
"I forgot that we were in trouble," Grace said with a giggle.  
  
"They'll probably write our parents," Micheal said carelessly. "What will dear Daddy Malfoy say when he finds out?"  
  
"Micheal," Grace snapped, good humor lost.   
  
"No, but seriously," Micheal said, still smiling but sounding serious, "what WOULD he say? Would it bother him to see his little girl LIVING for once?"  
  
"How dare-"  
  
"You let him control you," Micheal said softly, his smile gone. "Grace, he practically controls everything you do."  
  
"That's not true!"  
  
"Or you have to lie to him," Micheal continued. "I mean, honestly, have you told him about us?"  
  
"Well...no..."  
  
"Your father would HATE the thought of you dating a Weasley," Micheal said bitterly. "Grace, why do you let him do this to you?"  
  
Grace sighed and sipped her tea. "Micheal, you wouldn't understood."  
  
"Tell me. Please?"  
  
She sighed again. "Look, you have a huge family. Grandparents, tons of aunts and uncles, tons of cousins, parents, your sister and brother. But me...I only have him. My father. I don't have a mother or brother, or any other relatives. Just him." Grace looked away. "He doesn't HAVE to have me. He's not really my father, remember? I can't let him down. He doesn't have to love me, but he does. And he's all I have."  
  
Micheal took her chin in his fingers and lifted her face to his. "Grace," he whispered, "he's not all you have. YOu have me. And...I love you."  
  
Grace felt like the air had been sucked out of her, just like the first time they'd kissed. Although they'd been seeing each other for a year and a half, "I love you's" had not been exchanged. Oh, Grace had known since the beginning that she loved him, but had been too afraid to say it.  
  
But now...  
  
"I love you, too," she whispered, and dropped her teacup on the rug when Micheal leaned in and kissed her. His lips traveled to her neck, and her shoulders. Grace ran her hands through his pale red hair, moaning, "Yes, yes, yes."  
  
Eventually, they found themselves in Hagrid's huge bed. And Grace had never, ever felt so alive before when Micheal was inside her, making love to her.  
  
When it was over, they lay together. Grace faced away from him, staring at the fire, and Micheal had his arm around her. Her mind was blank and she was happy. She turned around to kiss Micheal...and found him asleep. She smiled at him, snuggling closer.   
  
I have him, she thought happily, closing her eyes and burying her head in his smooth chest. Daddy isn't everything anymore. I have Micheal now. 


	20. Part Twenty

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Twenty:   
  
Grace knew that what Micheal said was true: she DID let her father control her. But she didn't try to do anything about it. He loves me, and just wants the best for me, she thought, whenever the reminder of the conversation she and Micheal had came back to haunt her.   
  
Five years had passed. Grace had been Head Girl their seventh year, and she and Micheal were amoungst the top students in their year. Grace knew that her father was very proud, but worried: her brother, Draco, had died just days after leaving school.  
  
Grace and Micheal had moved in together, in a flat in London in one of the few all-magical complexes in the city. Lucius still didn't know about Micheal, and sent Grace money every month for the rent. She and Micheal both trained: she to be a Healer, he to be an Auror. Both passed their training at the age of 21.  
  
Grace knew Micheal's family, and the Weasleys had accepted her. In spite of the fact that she was a Malfoy, and Grace was aware of the rivalry between Malfoys and Weasleys, they were kind to her from the beginning. Grace loved to visit Micheal's childhood home, where his French mother Fleur baked all sorts of lovely dishes and his father Bill told stories of working with goblins in Egypt. They never mentioned Grace's father.  
  
She still went to see him. They had a sceduale worked out: she'd go to the manor every Wednesday afternoon for tea, and visit for one weekend a month. Micheal complained that she was away too much, but Grace would ignore his protests. While at the manor, she had to lie to her father. He didn't know that she was living with someone...a Weasley, no less! All he heard about was her job, and a little bit about her social life. Grace had a feeling that Lucius didn't like hearing about these things very much; they just reminded him that his little girl was all grown up. Well, I AM, Grace thought. But she continued the charade.  
  
Her job was also very busy. She worked in the potion accidents department of St. Mungo's, working long hours from early morning to late evening. And she had to be ready at any time of the day or night to go in if the bracelet she wore around her wrist lit up. It was a signal that a patient needed her. Grace was lucky to get her one weekend off, and be able to have tea with her father on Wednesdays. If she didn't show up, she knew that he would worry and start asking questions.  
  
Micheal sometimes asked why she didn't tell Lucius about him, and she would smile and say, "Darling, we need some extra money. If my father found out, he'd get upset and stop sending." That wasn't the truth, but it seemed plausable enough. The young couple was looking for a house of their own, and wanted to have enough money saved up for a stable future.  
  
Then, it happened.  
  
One weekend at her father's, when Grace was 22-years-old, she began to feel sick. That night, she went into the bathroom and threw up, as quietly as she could to not wake her father. As she threw up her dinner, a sudden thought came to her: I'm pregnant. She knew this was the truth: she'd been late for nearly two weeks now, and feeling sick most of the time.   
  
Grace tried to sneak out of the bathroom as quietly as she could, but when she came out, she found Trixie waiting for her in the hall, a candle in her hand. "Trixie!"  
  
"Is Miss Grace okay?" the elf asked, a look of concern on her face. "Trixie is hearing you be sick."  
  
"Oh...no, Trixie, I'm okay," Grace said, dropping her voice.  
  
"Should I fetch Master-"   
  
"No!" Grace cried. "I mean...let's not worry Daddy with this, alright? It's not a big deal. I'm fine, really."  
  
Trixie looked skeptical, but she let Grace go back to bed. As Grace lay awake in her childhood bedroom that night, she began to panic. She was pregnant. Well, she and Micheal HAD wanted to get married and have a family. But not this soon! Grace thought. I want this baby, and I know Micheal will, but...now I'll have to tell Daddy everything!  
  
Grace went back to her home in London the next evening, walking into the flat to find Micheal sitting on teh couch, reading the "Daily Prophet". He looked up when Grace walked in, and stood to greet her. "It's been a long weekend without you," he said, coming to help her with her bag. But he stopped before he reached her. "Grace, what's wrong?"  
  
Tears began to fill Grace's eyes. She dropped her bag and threw her arms around her boyfriend's neck, sobbing into his shoulder. He held her close, rubbing her back soothingly. "What is it, Grace? Is it your father again?" Grace could only nod. She couldn't help it: after her visits with Lucius, she got so upset. Why? she wondered. Everything went fine...except that he doesn't really know me at all.   
  
They sat down on the couch, and Grace took Micheal's hand. "Honey," she said softly, "I'm pregnant."  
  
"Pregnant?" The concern in Micheal's eyes faded as he smiled. "You...truly?"  
  
"Yes. I...want to keep it. Do you?"  
  
"Of course!" Micheal cried, throwing his arms around Grace. "Oh, Gods! Our child! Wait until my parents hear! We'll have to get married, soon. No big wedding for us."  
  
"We don't need one."  
  
"Maybe after the baby is born." Micheal jumped to his feet. "I can't believe this. A baby! OUR baby! Grace!" He picked her up and hugged her again. Then, he looked at her face and stopped. "What's wrong now?"  
  
"It's...my father..."  
  
"Him again!" Micheal thundered. He sat back down on the couch, seething. "He won't ruin this for us, Grace. Don't think of him now."  
  
"I can't help it," Grace said softly, sitting down next to Micheal and putting a hand on his. "It's his grandchild, you know." She sighed, and there was a long silence. "I'll just...have to tell him. About us."  
  
Micheal nodded. "You should've done that long ago."  
  
"You don't understand how hard it is!" Grace cried. "Your parents are so sweet and understanding. I love Daddy to death, I do, but he's so damn STUBBORN." He's also selfish and childish, she thought bitterly, but she couldn't say it aloud. It was bad enough to think it. A betrayal. Forgive me, Daddy. "He's so...intimidating. And I have to face him, by myself, and..." Grace suddenly had an idea. "Come with me!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"On my next weekend trip. Come with me."  
  
"Grace, are you crazy?" Micheal asked.   
  
"No! It's perfect!" Grace cried. "I NEED you there. You have your Gryfindor bravery. When I'm around you, I feel brave, too."  
  
"You ARE brave."  
  
Grace snorted. "I can't even stand up to my father. But with you there..." Grace put her head on his shoulder. "Will you go with me? For me? For our baby?"  
  
Micheal sighed. "I suppose..."  
  
Grace smiled. "Good. We're going to tell him...together. Come what may and hell to pay."  
  
"I don't think you know what you're saying."  
  
He was right. She didn't.  
  
Two weeks later, Grace was working at the hospital. She'd just been taking care of a patient with little shoes growing on her nose from a tap-dancing potion gone wrong, and she was definatly ready for a break. But when she headed to the Healer's Station, another Healer came up to her.  
  
"Healer Malfoy? I'm sorry to bother you, I'm Healer Dolmont, from the hexes department?"  
  
"How do you do?" Grace said, politely extending her hand, but really wanting to get this over with so she could enjoy some tea. No coffee for the expection mother.  
  
"Well, we have a patient in our floor, and she's asking for you," the Healer said. "Her name is Narcissa Wilcox...says she's your mother..."  
  
"Thank you, I'll see her," Grace said, trying to hold back her anticipation. Her mother was HERE? Last she'd heard, she was living in Barcelona. Healer Dolmont led Grace up the stairs.  
  
Grace had rarely been in the hexes department, only a few times when she was a Trainee. After being placed in the potions department, she'd never come back. Grace stared around at the drawn curtains of the ward as Healer Dilmont explained: "She was brought here a couple of nights ago. Hexed, you see. Just woke up a few minutes ago, and when she found out where she was, she asked for you." Dilmont led Grace to a private room, and threw back the curtain. "Here she is."  
  
Grace stared at the woman lying in the bed. She had greying, curly blond hair, and cold, empty, blue eyes. She was currantly sitting up, flipping through an old copy of "Witch Weekly", but she threw it down when the came in. "Well it's about TIME," she said impatiently. "I thought you'd never show up."  
  
"I'll, uh, leave you two alone," Healer Dilmont said timidly, backing out. Grace had a feeling that the other Healer was afraid of her mother.  
  
"You're damn right, you will!" When Dilmont was gone, she muttered, "Incompitant bitch." Narcissa's eyes met Grace's, and she snapped, "Well? Are you going to sit, or what?"  
  
"Yes," Grace said, lowering herself into the plastic chair beside the bed. Narcissa stared at her for a moment, unsmiling.  
  
"Well," she finally said, "you're grown up, now."  
  
"Yes," Grace said. She wasn't sure what eles to say.  
  
"You'd be, what, 23-"  
  
"22, actually," Grace corrected softly. Narcissa clucked her tongue.  
  
"Just reminds me of how old I am," she said. "If Draco were still alive, I'd probably be a grandmummy by now. Imagine!" She cackled with laughter. "But I'm not as old as that father of yours. How is he?"  
  
"Just fine," Grace said simply. She was starting to feel uncomfortable around this woman, whom she hadn't seen in 12 years.  
  
"Still as protective of you as ever, I wager?" Narcissa asked spitefully. "I always was jealous of that."  
  
"Jealous?"  
  
Narcissa smirked. "My DEAR child. I didn't just hate you because you were an unwanted Mudblood brat. I hated you because you made Lucius's heart open up. Something I was never able to do."  
  
Grace took this information in silently. "Well-"  
  
"But enough of old things," Narcissa said with an impatient wave of her hand. "What've YOU been up to?"  
  
"I'm pregnant," she said, without hesitation. If only it were so easy with Daddy, she thought.  
  
Narcissa looked thoughtful. "Out of wedlock, I presume? You still have the Malfoy title."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Narcissa nodded. "That means that your father doesn't know?" Grace nodded. "Whose the unlucky father."  
  
"Micheal Weasley."  
  
Narcissa cackled again. "Well, good luck telling the old man, then!" she laughed. "You'll be lucky if he lives through it!"   
  
Grace couldn't take anymore. She got to her feet and was about to take off, when Narcissa reached over and grabbed her arm. "Well, daughter, I'm disapointed. You're flighty, just like me."  
  
"I...I'm not flighty."  
  
"Then sit your pretty little ass down and listen to me." Grace obeyed, though she wasn't sure why. I have nothing to prove to this woman, she thought. Narcissa examined her daughter again. "A Healer. Well, what a surprise. How much did ol' Daddy have to donate to get you this job?"  
  
Grace dug her nails into her palms to fight back the anger that welled inside her. "Nothing," she said slowly. "I did it on my own."  
  
"Uh, huh," Narcissa said patrionizingly. "Well, you've made something of yourself. That's good, I approve. Not," she added, "that I think you care for my approval, either way."  
  
"I don't," Grace confirmed, and Narcissa nodded.  
  
"I can understand that. I mean, look what my life has gotten me!" She gestured to herself. "I've taken many lovers, taken their money, their hearts. Well, the one in Barcelona had the final straw when I said I was leaving him and going to India. He hexed me. Not even exactly sure what he did, but there you are. I'm a fool, and I'll kill you myself if you ever turn out like me."  
  
This shocked Grace, more then anything eles her mother had said. "Don't worry," she finally managed to say, "I think my father would kill me first."  
  
"Ah, Lucius," Narcissa said with a sigh. "Don't you worry about what he says. It's your life. Just don't mess up."  
  
This was a lot different then what her father had been saying her whole life. He'd never given her enough freedom to either mess up or not. Grace just nodded.  
  
"Your father...he's quite a contral freak," Narcissa continued. She took Grace's hand, which shocked Grace so much that she nearly pulled away. But she didn't. "Have you stood up to him yet?"  
  
Grace shook her head. "I'm afraid to."  
  
"Don't be," Narcissa said. "I know Lucius. You HAVE to stand up to him, or he will control you until the day you die. Look at me," she said again. "I broke free of him! Of course, I didn't make the right choices, but there you go: an anti-example for you, my daughter."   
  
Grace kissed her mother's hand and let go of it. "I have to go."  
  
"Yes. I expect that I'll never see you again," Narcissa said with a smile. "Good luck...with everything."  
  
"Thank you, Mother," Grace said. "I'll never forget this."  
  
"It's a shame," Narcissa said, "that the best thing I've ever given my daughter is some crappy advice."  
  
But Grace didn't think the advice crappy at all.  
  
It was just what she needed. 


	21. Part TwentyOne

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Twenty-Two:  
  
Grace and Micheal stood before the gates of Malfoy Manor, suitcases in hand. That's as far as they could Apparate, and they'd have to walk to the rest of the way to the house. "Ready?" Grace whispered.  
  
"Yeah," Micheal said, looking up at the huge house. He'd grown up in a fairly nice sized home, for both of his parents worked for Gringotts, but it didn't even come CLOSE to the size of Malfoy Manor. Grace was embarressed to show him her childhood home, this dark, foreboding place.  
  
They headed up the gravel drive, and Grace turnd to Micheal. "Am I pale?"  
  
"Yes. Are you alright?"  
  
Grace ignored the question, and began to pinch some color into her cheeks. "Watch that be the first thing he comments about," she said, pinching as hard as she could.   
  
"Grace, just relax," Micheal said lightly. "He's your FATHER. How bad could it be?"  
  
"I'm not worried for myself," she lied. "I'm worried for YOU."  
  
Micheal laughed. "I'm not scared."  
  
Grace turned to him, a serious expression on her face. "Maybe you should be." SHE certainly wasn't afraid of her father, just of making him disapointed in her. But she'd seen people who were terrified of him, and had seen why. Lucius Malfoy could be a very intimidating, scary man.   
  
They reached the front doors, and Grace turned to Micheal and laughed a little, before letting the knocker fall. As though they were expected, the doors burst open, and Trixie was waiting. "Miss Grace!"  
  
"Hi, Trixie."  
  
"Come in, come in. 'Tis chilly today, and you is looking cold. Give Trixie your cloak, that's a girl." Trixie led them inside, and when the doors were shut, she finally noticed Micheal. "A...friend of Miss Grace's?"  
  
"He's staying with us for the weekend," Grace said simply.  
  
"Is Master knowing this?" Trixie asked suspiciously.   
  
"No. It is a surprise."  
  
A group of house elves greeted Grace warmly and took her's and Micheal's suitcases up the stairs. "Separate rooms," Trixie said pointedly, and Grace wanted to pound the elf's furry head in. "Right this way, Miss Grace. Master is to be expecting you."   
  
Grace felt her heart rate pick up as Trixie led her and Micheal to the drawing room. This was it: Lucius was finally going to meet Micheal. Grace had an urge to turn and run, but she kept going, until she was right outside the room. Lucius sat in a chair facing the door, and smiled when he saw her. "Gracie!" He stood up, with difficulty, and grabbed his cane. Grace hated that cane, black with a silver serpents head on top. Lucius had used it as a fashion accessory before she was born, but had recently dug it from the closet. As he neared seventy, his body wasn't as able as it used to be.  
  
But, in spite of his slight handicap, he hurried to her and kissed her cheek. "My dear. I pray that you got here well?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy. Always."  
  
Lucius stood back to examine her, and frowned slightly. "You're so pale, my dear. Are you alright?"  
  
Dammmit, she thought in frustration, but shot him a smile. "Yes, Daddy. I'm just a little tired."  
  
"You work much too hard," Lucius said coldly. "Perhaps you should take a short nap before dinner."  
  
Grace shook her head, embarressed to be treated like a child with her boyfriend just around the door. "No, Daddy. I'm more hungry then tired." At the disaproving look on his face, she added hastily, "I'll sleep after dinner, I promise."  
  
"Very well, Gracie," Lucius said softly. He smiled again and patted her arm. "You sweet little thing. You just get more and more beautiful all the time."  
  
"Daddy, I brought someone with me."  
  
Lucius frowned. "A guest?"  
  
"Yes," Grace said, with fake enthusiasm. "For a change in pace."  
  
"A friend of yours?"  
  
"Yes," Grace lied, a little. "Sort of."  
  
"Sort of-"  
  
"Micheal!" Grace called to the hall. "Come in here!" In came Micheal, looking much less confident then he had on the way to the manor. Grace saw her father's back straighten and his chin rise. He looked almost scary now. "Daddy," she said, trying to smile, "this is Micheal. My boyfriend."  
  
"Boyfriend," Lucius said coldly, glaring at Micheal. The younger man squirmed a bit, but he held out a hand for Lucius to shake.   
  
"Nice to meet you, sir."  
  
"Yes," Lucius said sarcasticly, not taking the outstretched hand. Micheal let it drop. Lucius cleared his throat. "Dinner is ready. I just hope that the house elves have prepared enough for our, erm, GUEST." Lucius took Grace's arm, in a grip that was a bit too tight, and steered her from the room, the cane in his other hand. Grace didn't dare turn her head to see Micheal walking behind them, but she could hear the sound of his shoes on the wooden floors.  
  
The dining hall was all set, with three places instead of two. Lucius pulled out Grace's chair for her, and she sat. Lucius motioned to the place across from Grace to Micheal, who took his place. Lucius sat, as usual, at the head of the table, his cane propped up next to him.  
  
The meal began silently, until Micheal dared to speak: "The food is delicious, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"It's quite lucky that we had enough," Lucius said coldly. Micheal didn't dare speak again. Lucius lifted up the wine bottle and poured himself a glass. "Grace, I picked this up in Diagon Alley. I believe you asked me about this? Care to try?"  
  
Grace couldn't, for she was pregnant, so she just faked a smile. "Not tonight, Daddy, but thank you."  
  
"Gracie-"  
  
"I think Micheal might like some wine," Grace said swiftly. Lucius cast his eyes at the unwelcome guest.  
  
"Wine?" he asked coldly.  
  
"Thank you, sir," Micheal said timidly. Grace felt so sorry for him as Lucius poured the goblet full, a disgusted look on his face. The meal was silent for a few moments longer, until Lucius spoke again.  
  
"So, Micheal, how did you manage to run into my daughter?"   
  
Either Micheal ignored the coldness of the question or he chose not to hear it, because he said, "Why, we met on the first day of school. On the train to Hogwarts."  
  
"Really?" Lucius shot Grace a glance, but she turned away. "And, how long have you two been...SEEING each other."  
  
"Since...when was it, Grace?" Grace shot Micheal a cold look, then looked down at her lap.  
  
"Fifth year. Six years."  
  
"Six year," Lucius said slowly. "My, what a long time. And I was never informed, because...?" There was no real answer for this, and Lucius sighed. "I see. Well, enjoy your dinner." He got to his feet, grabbed his cane, and left the room. Grace threw down her napkin in anger.  
  
"He's impossible!"  
  
"Grace-"  
  
"I KNEW he'd be this way!" Grace cried. "Didn't I TELL you he was impossible? NOW do you know why I can't talk to him about anything?" Grace got up so quickly that she almost knocked her chair over. Without another word, she left Micheal alone in the dining hall as she stormed after her father.  
  
As she predicted, she found him in his chair in the drawing room. He seemed to be waiting for her, because he didn't look surprised as she stomped in. "What is your problem?" she demanded angrily.  
  
Lucius gave his daughter a long, cold look. "My problem," he said slowly, "is that you've brought trash into our home."  
  
"Trash?" Grace was near hysterics. "How DARE you be so...ARISTOCRATIC! Not to mention snobby and RUDE. He is my guest!"  
  
"I didn't want him here," Lucius said coldly. "And I don't want him around you."  
  
"Well, that's just too damn bad!" Grace cried. "We've been together for SIX YEARS, in case you didn't get that memo. And we're living together!"  
  
"I see," Lucius said, his voice rising slightly. "I've been supporting a dirty little Weasle-"  
  
"He makes his own money!" Grace cried impatienly.   
  
"He is trash," Lucius repeated. "And I am ashamed that you ever associated with him."  
  
ASHAMED. It was the first time she'd ever heard her father address that word to her. She'd always feared this, but now...she was on too much of a roll to stop. "Oh, yeah?" she asked defensively. "Well, I'M ashamed that you've murdered people, supported the Dark Lord, and been to Azkaban!"  
  
Lucius sat back in his chair, his eyes wide. "How did you-"  
  
"Oh, GODS, Daddy! Do you think I'm so sheltered? People talk...oh, how they've talked! I've suffered quite a bit because of your mistakes. So don't talk to me about being ashamed!"  
  
Lucius grabbed his cane and rose to his feet slowly. "Now, you listen to me, Lenore Grace Malfoy, and you listen carefully," he said coldly. "You are going to break up with that piece of trash, right this second. And you're coming to stay here. You are never to associate with him again."  
  
"Or what?" Grace demanded. "Huh? What will you did if I don't follow your orders for once?"   
  
Lucius looked shocked. "Grace, you are wayward!"  
  
"Wayward, am I?" she demanded.   
  
"This is exactly what I was afraid of," Lucius said softly. "You're...just like your mother."  
  
Grace couldn't take this. Before she could burst into tears, she felt from the room and up the stairs. She didn't stop running until she'd made it to her room, thrown the lock, and fallen, sobbing onto her bed.  
  
He was impossible. And there was nothing she could do. 


	22. Part TwentyTwo

Grace of the Devil  
  
Part Twenty-Two:  
  
Lucius sat back in his chair, breathing hard. Grace had never stood up to him like that before. What had she been THINKING? A Weasley! And for so many years, without telling him! He sat back and closed his eyes, until he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. He opened them to see that disgusting piece of trash standing in the doorway.  
  
"Is Grace alright? I thought I heard her go upstairs."  
  
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Lucius said coldly. "My daughter and I have a lot to talk about."  
  
"I'm not leaving," Micheal said, coming into the room. "I have to have a word with you."  
  
"What," Lucius said with a sneer, "could you POSSIBLY have to say to me?"  
  
"It's about Grace."  
  
"Yes," Lucius said, "I must speak with you about her, too. You have to stay away from her."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Lucius nodded. "I think it would be best if you stayed away from her. She's under a lot of emotional stress, and-"  
  
"Any stress she's under is YOUR fault."  
  
"I think you've misunderstood me," Lucius said in a soft, cold voice. "So allow me to rephrase so there's no confusion. You are to leave this place, now, and never speak to my daughter again. You'll do this, or I will kill you."  
  
"Why do you think you can do this?" Micheal demanded, advancing on the older man. "You think you can just treat her like some doll, some toy, and tell her what to do-"  
  
"STOP!" Lucius cried. "How dare you, come to our home and critisize us-"  
  
"Don't you see what you've DONE to her?" Micheal cried. "You don't know how much you've hurt her."  
  
"I've done nothing of the sort," Lucius said quietly. But a strange fear was filling him. "Now, go."  
  
But the young man ignored the order. "As much as you think she's broken your heart, you've hurt her thrice as much, at least."  
  
"How DARE-"  
  
"You've never seen her," Micheal cried. "After going to see you, she'd come home and cry on my shoulder. Because you make her lie. Because you control her. Gods, you don't know how afraid of you she is."  
  
He'd struck a chord there. Grace...AFRAID of me? Lucius thought. But how can that BE? I've always been so good to her! Lucius stared at the young man, who was trembling with anger, standing before him. He shook off his thoughts. "You don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"I DO," the young man insisted. "You've broken her spirit, don't you see? That glint in her eye, the one that made me fall in love with her...it's faded. Not all the way, but-"  
  
"Faded?" This frightened Lucius more then anything he'd heard that evening.  
  
Micheal nodded. "Don't you see it? With all your controlling...not letting her play Quidditch, making her become a Healer instead of an Auror, making her keep our us a secret...and other things. Mr. Malfoy, I don't mean to be disrespectful-"  
  
"Then you wouldn't have opened your mouth," Lucius snapped. He was taking this all very personally. Controlling? Broken spirit? None of this had ever accured to him before. He'd only wanted what was best for his baby, his little girl. And I've hurt more then helped, Lucius thought sadly. Gods, what's wrong with me.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy?" Lucius was snapped from his thoughts and he looked at the young man again. "Sir, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but...Grace is pregnant."  
  
"Pregnant." Lucius stared at the young man for a moment. "I see..."  
  
"We want to get married, and keep the baby. But she won't do it without your blessing."  
  
Lucius nodded. "I understand." He rose from his chair at last, and leaned on his cane. "You're welcome to stay," he said softly. "A guest room has been prepared for you, no doubt. I must speak with Grace alone."  
  
"Please, don't be hard-"  
  
"I won't," Lucius snapped, and with that, he left the room. Getting up the stairs was an effort for the aging man, but he made it, and he went all the way down the hall to Grace's room. Standing outside the door, he could hear her sniffle and sob. He tapped the door with the head of his cane. "Gracie?"  
  
"Go away," she snapped. Lucius sighed and tapped again.  
  
"Darling, I want to speak with you."  
  
"Fine," she snapped. Lucius opened the door and went in. The room was lit with candles, and Grace sat up in her bed. Her black curls were a mess, and her eyes were bloodshot. "What do you want now? I just want some privacy...unless I'm not even allowed THAT now."  
  
"Grace, please." Lucius sat next to her in the bed. "I've just spoken with your boyfriend. He put a few things into perspective."  
  
"Oh, Gods," Grace cried, sobbing again and putting a hand over her eyes. Lucius put his arms around her and held her close.  
  
"There there, Darling," Lucius whispered. "He told me that...you're having a baby."  
  
Grace slowly removed her hand from her face. "Are you upset?"  
  
Lucius smiled. "No, my dear. You want this baby, right?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy."  
  
"Then if you're happy, I'm happy," Lucius said softly. "That's all I've ever wanted for you, Grace. Happiness."  
  
"I know, Daddy."  
  
Lucius sighed. "I messed up, though, didn't I? I had no idea that I was...that I was...being so..."  
  
"Controlling?"  
  
"It just never happened on me," Lucius sighed. "I thought I was doing right, that I was helping you. But I was hurting you all this time, wasn't I?"  
  
Grace squirmed a bit. "You had good intentions."  
  
"I did," Lucius said bitterly, "but good intentions don't get you what you need. I wish you'd have spoken to me about this, though."  
  
"I was so afraid," Grace admitted. "I thought...you would stop loving me."  
  
"Gracie!" Lucius cried. "Oh, my poor dear! I would never do that! I love you so much, don't you know that?" He hugged her closer. "I could never not love you, my dear. You're my entire world, you know."  
  
"Yes, Daddy," Grace whispered. "I love you, too."  
  
"I didn't want you to love anyone eles," Lucius said with a sigh. "I was so jealous when I thought of...but you and Micheal are in love, aren't you?"  
  
"Very much," Grace admitted, almost sounding ashamed. Lucius smiled and kissed the top of her curly head.  
  
"Good, darling," Lucius whispered. "I want you to be happy, remember."  
  
"We want to marry."  
  
"Then I shall help you," Lucius said. "We'll do this quickly, as soon as we can."  
  
"A small wedding," Grace said softly. "Family only."  
  
"Then you'll only be able to invite half of his, if you want it to be small."  
  
"Daddy!" Grace cried, but Lucius smiled again.  
  
"I'm joking, darling, of course. I suppose I'll have to learn to get along with the Weasleys, if you are to become one."   
  
Grace laughed, a little. "It may help."  
  
"You must come and live here again."  
  
"But Daddy-"  
  
"No, listen," Lucius said, firmly but gently. "You and your husband and children will live at Malfoy Manor. Since you'll be married, the house is rightfully yours. And besides," Lucius said, smiling again, "who's going to take care of this senile, eccentric old man?"  
  
"Trixie isn't a bad caretaker," Grace said.  
  
"Ah, but she's growing old herself," Lucius commented. "She's ready to die."  
  
"Poor thing."  
  
Lucius kissed his daughter's head again. "So, you and your Weasleys will swarm the Malfoy Manor. A house of little red-headed people. And, God help me, maybe I'll love them."  
  
"I know you will, you sweet old man." Grace kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Daddy. You don't know what your approval means to me. Thank you."  
  
Lucius held his little girl in his arms. She was no longer a little girl, he knew. She was now a young woman, a soon-to-be bride and mother.   
  
But she'd always be his little girl. 


	23. The End

Grace of the Devil  
  
Epilouge:  
  
Lucius sat in his leather armchair, drumming his long, pale fingers against the arm. He was silent, though there were chattering people all around him. Chattering WEASLEYS. There was Micheal, looking as nervous as Lucius felt, and his red-haired brother and sister, and her sister's husband. Their parents, the red-haired Bill and the part-veela, French Fleur, were chatting on the couch, anticipating the birth of their first grandchild. Theirs...and mine, Lucius thought, and excitment filled him.  
  
Lucius had forgotten one person. In the room came Arthur Weasley, looking even older then Lucius felt. The man was near his eighties now, expecting his SECOND great-grandchild. The man, who had long been Lucius's enemy, approached him, and Lucius smiled politely. He didn't like the meddling man, but they'd called a truce before Grace and Micheal's wedding. Like it or not, they were family now.  
  
"You look very nervous," Arthur said, taking the seat next to Lucius.   
  
Lucius nodded, and smiled in shame. "I know I shouldn't be. It's just childbirth, after all. I just never imagined I would be a grandparent."  
  
"Hell, I never imagined I'd be a GREAT-grandparent," Arthur said, "and I've been one for a year now. I guess I'm just near the end of my life. And the sooner the better, so I can join Molly again."   
  
Lucius felt sympathy for the man he'd never liked. His wife, the little plump, red-haired thing, had just died a year before. "Yes, well, this new baby...it'll brighten our lives, hopefully."  
  
"You'll get to live with it, lucky dog," Weasley said kindly.  
  
Suddenly, the room went quick when screams were heard upstairs. Lucius gripped the arms of his chair as he heard his daughter's pained cries. The whole room went embarressed when they heard her scream, "Fucking men! They should all be casterated, the basturds!"  
  
"Oh, my," the little French mother of Micheal said, putting an embarressed hand over her mouth. Lucius had to smile: his daughter still had a fighting spirit. Though I almost forced it out of her, he remembered sadly.  
  
Arthur seemed to sense Lucius's feelings, and he patted his hand comfortingly. "She'll be alright." And Lucius knew that he wasn't just referring to the child labor.  
  
Almost twenty minutes later, the midwife's assistant came downstairs. Everyone jumped to their feet, though Lucius rose with difficulty with the help of his cane. The young woman looked around at all of them, and smile. "It's a boy!" Cheers rang around the room, and everyone rushed towards the door. But the assistant put her hand up. "She only wants her husband and father with her now." Lucius looked around at the Weasleys, and his eyes met Micheal's blue ones. They crinkled in an excited smile, and the two men followed the woman silently up the stairs.  
  
After Micheal and Grace had married seven months ago, they'd moved into Malfoy Manor. Because it was rightfully their house, Lucius gave them the master bedroom and settled into Draco's old room, finally clearing out his long-dead sons things after so many years. Now, they were led to the master bedroom, where Grace's child had been born...where SHE had been born, where her brother had been born, where Lucius HIMSELF had been born. The old bedroom had seen the beginnings of many Malfoy's lives. And now, Lucius thought, it had seen the beginnings of a Weasley. How ironic...the family that I used mock for being poor has taken over our house. I am the last Malfoy.  
  
The midwife's assistant opened the door and let them in. Lucius resisted the urge to push Micheal out of the way as he entered the room first. Lucius followed, leaning on his cane. The room was brightly lit, and he could see the midwife standing over the bed. As Lucius approached, he saw his daughter, exhausted, sweaty, but beaming. And she was holding a little bundle in her arms, a little red-haired bundle. She handed it to Micheal as Lucius neared, and she allowed him to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Congratulations, darling."  
  
"Thank you, Daddy," Grace whispered. Marriage, and now motherhood, still hadn't made her grow out of that name for her father. Adn Lucius was glad of that.  
  
"He's beautiful," Lucius whispered, leaning over to look at his grandson. And he WAS. He had red skin, probably to be pale with lots of freckles, Lucius thought. And on top of it's little head was a patch of the Weasley red hair.   
  
"Would you like to hold him?" Micheal asked, and without waiting for an answer, handed the small child to Lucius. As Lucius looked down into the small baby's sleeping face, he was taken back to the day Grace had been born. Well, she's grown now, Lucius thought, looking over at his daughter with pride. He looked at the baby again. "A Weasley, my grandson. Who would've ever thought?"  
  
"We've thought of a name," Grace said. "But we wanted to run it by you first."  
  
"Go ahead," Lucius said softly, still looking into the little boy's face.  
  
"Well," Micheal said. "If he'd been a girl, we would've named him Molly Lenore, after his late great-grandmother and his lovely mother."  
  
"Oh, Micheal," Grace said modestly.  
  
"That'll be a good name, when you DO have a girl," Lucius said, in a tone that he hoped would imply that they'd BETTER have a girl. "But what about this little boy?"  
  
"Well," Grace said softly, "I know that you're disapointed, that the Malfoy name is almost dead..."  
  
Lucius snorted lightly. "It's better off dead, trust me, my dear."   
  
"That doesn't mean that YOUR name has to die," Grace continued. "Or my brother's. So we thought, well, how about...Draco Lucius?"  
  
Lucius looked down at the baby's face. The sweet little boy, who would know no evil in his life. Not as long as his grandfather was alive and kicking. No, Lucius thought. Those horrid names aren't right for him. He shook his head. "Let's put those names to rest. I'm sure that you have a better one in mind."  
  
Grace actually looked relieved. "Well...how about Noah Arthur?"  
  
"Noah Arthur," Lucius whispered, looking down at the baby again. "Yes, I like that name. Very Muggle. Yes, it's perfect."   
  
"Glad you approve," Micheal said with kind sarcasm. Lucius handed Noah back to his father, and sat down on the bed next to his daughter. He kissed her sweaty forehead again.  
  
"I love you, Gracie."  
  
"I love you, too, Daddy." She took his hand and squeezed it.  
  
"You've always made me proud," Lucius said softly. "You've never disapointed me, my dear. You're so perfect."  
  
Grace shook her head. "No, I'm not perfect."  
  
Although Lucius chose not to argue, he had to disagree. To him, Grace WAS perfect. And, although she was married and a mother now, she was still his little girl. She didn't belong completly to him anymore, but somehow, that didn't bother him.  
  
No matter what, he thought happily, she'll always be MINE. 


End file.
